


Green light in my eyes / and my lover on my mind

by storiesliveoninsideus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Awkward Cullen Rutherford, Chaptered, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mages and Templars, POV Cullen Rutherford, POV Lavellan, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Romance, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-30 23:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 106,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6446854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesliveoninsideus/pseuds/storiesliveoninsideus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of my Inquisitor Eliya Lavellan, her journey through DAI and her romance with Cullen Rutherford. Curious about humans and the world outside her clan, Dalish mage Eliya Lavellan is sent by her Keeper to spy on the proceedings at the conclave - instead, she finds herself marked by magic she doesn't understand and pulled into the efforts of the Inquisition. </p><p>Eliya wants to learn and to understand, to build a better world than the one that shuns people like her just because of what they were born as. As the world is thrown into chaos, she is determined to make a difference that will benefit all of Thedas. She never imagined she would fall in love in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This will be heavy on the romance & friendship with some NSFW chapters later down the track, like all fun romance fics.
> 
> This is my first time ever writing a fanfiction so please be gentle! I found myself imagining all these extra scenes as I played DAI, so I thought I'd use this as practice for my eventual goal of writing an original novel. As such, thoughts on my writing style would be appreciated :)
> 
> Will probably end up quite long, haven't settled on a number of chapters yet though! Also will be mostly canon with some deliberate divergences and probably some non-deliberate ones too if I forget exactly how things happened. I'm still on my first playthrough of DAO and haven't played DA2 yet so if I make errors in history / fact I'm sorry!
> 
> Title is from 'Over the Love' by Florence and the Machine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya falls out of the Fade, and has to figure out what the hell is going on.  
> Commander Cullen Rutherford doesn't know what to make of the Dalish mage people first call a murderer, and then label 'The Herald of Andraste'.
> 
> "Eliya Lavellan had felt a lot of pain in her life. The agony of keeping silent as her vallaslin was applied. The aching and pounding in her skull the day she slipped and fell into a ravine, hitting her head, splitting it open on a rock and breaking her arm. The day a shielded rogue bandit made it past her weakened magical barrier and sliced clean across her shoulders. 
> 
> The pain she felt right now eclipsed all of that. Her whole body felt somehow both numb and on fire, like a pulse of lightning was running through her. Worst of all, it felt as though her hand had been crushed by a heavy force - perhaps it had even been cut off. Would it still hurt hurt if she had lost her arm? How had this happened?"

Eliya Lavellan had felt a lot of pain in her life.  The agony of keeping silent as her vallaslin was applied. The aching and pounding in her skull the day she slipped and fell into a ravine, hitting her head, splitting it open on a rock and breaking her arm. The day a shielded rogue bandit made it past her weakened magical barrier and sliced clean across her shoulders.  
  
The pain she felt right now eclipsed all of that. Her whole body felt somehow both numb and on fire, like a pulse of lightning was running through her. Worst of all, it felt as though her hand had been crushed by a heavy force - perhaps it had even been cut off. Would it still hurt hurt if she had lost her arm? How had this happened?  
  
Eliya couldn't remember a thing, and that terrified her. She hadn't been brave enough to open her eyes yet, was still hoping that this was some kind of waking nightmare. Then the pain in her arm peaked, with a flash of green she saw through her closed eyelids and a strange sound, like the static of magic or the hiss of a fire.  
  
She was lying in a dark room - a prison cell, by the feel of it. She could not put into words what she saw on her arm. The limb was still there, which might have been a relief,  except that from a dark spot on her palm a greenish-black - _something_  - was pulsating. It was some kind of magic, but not hers - not like the fire or even the lightning she controlled, that was natural to her. This was foreign, and it felt _wrong_. As it crackled and flared she felt the muscles in her arm and shoulder seize. She rolled up onto her knees, clutching her arm to her chest, and cried out. _What had happened to her?_    
  
There were others in the room with her.  She could sense them, feel their fear,  knew it was directed at her. She was used to that.  But here she was kneeling, defenceless, at their mercy - what did they have to fear? One strike and she'd be done.  
  
She heard footsteps approaching the heavy door, which flew open to reveal two women - one tall, dark haired and wearing the armour of a Seeker. The other hooded, wearing robes, her short red hair framing a forbidding face. Eliya heard the soldiers in the room sheathing their swords, but she just rocked back on her heels, trying not to faint.  
  
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you," the Seeker demanded.

\---

Eliya woke up again in another strange place, but this one was far less intimidating. A small wooden hut, decorated in what she imagined was a homely style; bookshelves, candles, and a large bed which she was currently occupying. Quickly she brought up her marked hand to inspect it,  but found the mark still there. It hurt less now, at least. 

As she examined her surroundings, a young elf with brown hair entered the room, bearing a crate which she promptly dropped upon seeing Eliya sitting up.  
  
"Oh! I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"  
  
Her reaction surprised Eliya. It was a different kind of fear than what she had felt from the last people she had met - it seemed more - reverent.  
  
"Why are you frightened? What happened?" Eliya asked gently.  
  
"Thats wrong, isn't it? I've said the wrong thing!"  
  
"I don't think so," Eliya responded, and she was further surprised as the elf dropped to her knees.  
  
"I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing, my lady. I am but a humble servant."  
  
Eliya had never met a non-Dalish elf before, and she wondered if they were all this odd. What did they know of her people?  
  
"You are back in Haven, my lady," the elf continued. "They say you saved us! The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked of for three days."  
That answered a few questions. But she had seemingly been unconscious for three days - what was this mark doing to her? Would it still kill her?  
  
"So the danger is over?" Eliya asked.  
  
"The breach is still in the sky, but that's what they say," she answered, scrambling to her feet. "I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've awakened. She said 'at once'."  
  
"And where is she?" Eliya tried to stand, head still slightly spinning.  
  
"In the chantry, with Chancellor Roderick. She said at once!" The elf exclaimed, running out the door.  
  
Maybe it was just that individual elf who was strange, Eliya thought. She noticed a washbasin and a spotted mirror in the corner, and crossed the room slowly to them. She seemed to be okay, all this considered. Looking in the mirror, her hair was an absolute nest and the kohl she normally wore around her eyes was all but gone. Instead, her bright green eyes looked tired and bloodshot against her pale skin, and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose were even more prominent than usual.  
  
The washbasin was full of chilly water which she splashed on her face and through her hair. She couldn't find a brush, so she did her best to tame her hair with her fingers and fixed the braid she normally wore over her left ear. They'd dressed her in new clothes - light brown breeches and a matching shirt with silver fastenings. Not her usual style but simple enough. She did wonder _who_ had dressed her.  
  
They'd also left a staff in the room with her. This was more trust than she had expected - unless it was for the use of another mage left to watch over her? Regardless, she picked it up and slung it over her shoulder. Now that the immediate threat of the growing Breach seemed temporarily over, things could go either way for her. They might believe that she had nothing to do with what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Or they might turn on her - and in that case she needed to be prepared.  
  
\-----

Cullen first saw the prisoner as the apostate elf Solas had watched over her, chained and unconscious. He took in little but the fact that she was an elf, and a mage. He suspected that she was an enemy, sent to destroy the Conclave and tear apart any remaining order that might have existed across southern Thedas. The Divine - and all those other people - were dead at her hand.

There were many who tried to get to her in those days that she clung hopelessly to life. Many who wanted her dead.  He tended to agree with the her would-be killers - better to end her life before she could wake up and cause more destruction. But he knew that Seeker Cassandra was right - she should at least be given the chance to explain. All that had happened in Kirkwall had taught him the danger of rash judgements and believing things too easily. He wanted to become the kind of person who stood on the right side, the side of real justice, for once in his life.  
  
Now those who had at first called the prisoner evil, an enemy, a traitor, whispered that she was something like a prophet, a gift from the Maker - the Herald of Andraste. How could she be? She was a Dalish elf and a mage - did she even believe in Andraste? Though he didn't doubt that the Maker could use anyone for His purpose, surely she was not the right choice.

She had been unconscious for another three days since they managed to still the growth of the breach and bring a moment of calm and safety. Now he was told that she was awake, and coming to meet them - the advisors of the Inquisition. Cullen wasn't sure how to feel about it. If the mark on her hand was indeed a key to closing the breach and the other rifts that had appeared across Thedas then they would certainly need her help. But how would she feel about it all? What manner of woman was she? He still wasn't certain that they could trust her.

Cassandra entered the room with the woman in tow. She was short next to the Seekers’ imposing frame, but held herself with a grace and stature that commanded attention. It was a dramatic change from the fragile looking unconscious form he had seen before.

She had tidied her hair, and he saw that she wore it pushed to one side, with a thick braid that ran over her pointed ear and a small patch shaved short on the same side. That combined with the intricate black vallaslin that marked her face certainly made her look very - elven. Her eyes were rimmed with dark makeup which emphasised their colour, an extraordinary shade of green. If Cullen was honest with himself, she was strikingly beautiful.

Still, now that she stood before him, he wasn't sure if he regretted the decision to let her live or not. Time would tell. She listened attentively as Seeker Cassandra introduced himself, Leliana and Josephine, explaining their various roles within the Inquisition. He tried to greet her with warmth, but it was difficult to ignore the reality of how many lives had been lost. Her large eyes lingered on each of them for a few moments, but Cullen couldn't gauge any reaction from her calm demeanour. She asked thoughtful questions in a sweet, melodic voice that Cullen might have found charming - but instead it unnerved him. The first time she showed any real emotion was when Josephine mentioned the rumours about her - that she was being called ‘The Herald of Andraste’.

“Just _how_ am _I_ the Herald of Andraste?” She asked incredulously.

Seeker Cassandra’s explanation didn’t seem to make her feel any better - her brow was knotted in confusion and Cullen noted the way she fidgeted with her hands - pressing the nail of each finger into the pad of her thumb in turn. A small thing, but a tell that he had learned to pick up on.

“It’s quite a title. How do you feel about that?” He asked, genuinely curious at her answer. She stared at him for a moment, lips pursed as she considered her response and, he imagined, measured him up as well.

“It’s … a little unsettling.” She responded with a note of unease. He couldn’t fault her on that answer.

“I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”

When Leliana suggested reaching out to Mother Giselle for support, and the other advisors instructed her to begin building the Inquisition's reach in the Hinterlands, she took it in stride, agreeing to help wherever she could. Cullen thought it a positive sign, that she was reluctant to be in a position of power but willing to use it to do some good. But, she might simply be a very good actor - playing the gentle and trustworthy angle until she could strike in the way she wanted. She was Dalish, after all, and there weren’t many clans known for getting along well with humans, or other elves for that matter. She had been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes for a reason. At the very least, she would be accompanied by Seeker Cassandra for the foreseeable future - Cullen had confidence that she, at least, was discerning enough to know if they were being lead into danger by this supposed ‘Herald’.  
\----

Eliya had agreed to depart the next morning for the Hinterlands, to make contact with ‘Mother Giselle’ and do whatever else might be done to support the Inquisition’s cause. She would be accompanied by the trio that had helped her reach the Breach - Varric the dwarf, Solas the apostate and Cassandra the Seeker.

She liked Cassandra, even though the first time they met she did threaten to kill Eliya. She was clearly trying to make a difference and prevent further chaos, which Eliya respected. Plus, she was a formidable fighter and had a heart of compassion - Eliya had seen that in the way Cassandra had trusted her, and in the small instances of concern for her wellbeing.

Solas was more complicated. When Eliya first approached him, she wanted to ask him about elven culture, as some kind of common ground. She was taken aback when he implied that, being Dalish, she would not be open to differences in opinion about their people. Eliya was not easily offended and much more inclined to treat the man with respect given that he had apparently saved her life and nursed her back to health. She told him as much, apologizing for any offence that the Dalish might have caused him and hoping that she could make it right. He had been chastened by that, and apologised himself. Then he had shared the most wonderful stories with her about the ancient elven cities and magic, and seemed to grow warmer with every question she asked. She hoped he might teach her more of what he knew - the magic of the rifts and the anchor on her hand was something she couldn’t begin to comprehend on her own.

She enjoyed Varric’s company too - he was very cheerful in a cynical sort of way and Eliya appreciated his sense of humor. Not once had Varric shown any inclination to treat her differently for being a mage, an elf, a woman or the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’. And he had been amidst strange events before - Eliya had discovered that Varric was in fact a close friend of the Champion of Kirkwall, and had written The Tale of the Champion, about the events in that infamous city. Varric had been surprised to find out that Eliya had read it, but as she explained, Keeper Deshanna had been very permissive of her interest in human affairs - exemplified by the fact he had sent her to the conclave to spy on the proceedings.  
  
The realisation of who Varric was had also led to her recognising another name from his story. Cullen. When he had been introduced as an advisor and the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Eliya had noted mostly how very handsome he was. She worked quite hard not to look at him for longer than she did the others, but she felt an immediate attraction to the man - he was tall and built like a proper warrior, with a wonderful jawline and gorgeous wavy blonde hair. She did not fault him for his suggestion that the Templars might serve instead of enlisting the help of the mages - he wouldn’t be the only person wary of magical power and she knew they’d need to keep their options open. But later as she relived the words Varric had written, she remembered the name ‘Cullen’ and what the man he described had done. What he had said - that mages weren’t really people.

 Again, Eliya wasn’t a person quick to anger or to take offense. Mostly, the thought that Cullen might hate and distrust her on principle made her sad. She was sad for the state of a world where it was so common to discount entire groups of people for the actions of a few. But with the chaos that surrounded them, it was easy to see how a person might get to that point.

Perhaps she would have been better off to hate him for what she knew. But he had seemed polite and kind when he had spoken to her. Eliya needed to believe that kindness and courage could change things. She wanted to prove to him - he and everyone else - that she could be good. She couldn’t comprehend how she had gotten here or why she had survived. But whatever it took to set things right, that’s what she would do now. That’s what she _had_ to do.


	2. Who is she, really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Commander Cullen Rutherford tries to make sense of the so-called 'Herald of Andraste' and figure out if she can be trusted. 
> 
> "As he gestured to the crowd, Cullen spotted her standing among them. Eliya’s arms were folded, with the fingers of her unmarked hand pressed against her lips as she surveyed the situation. She saw Cullen's glance and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Standing quiet and unnoticed amongst so many people, with the wind making her hair float about ethereally, she seemed more like a ghost or spirit than flesh and bone."

_ We've reached our destination without incident. The Herald has already found several rifts and closed them with our assistance. She intends to seek out Mother Giselle tomorrow. There are a great number of refugees in the area, made worse by ongoing conflict between mage and templar groups. I will send word again when there is something of note to report on. - C.P _

 

_ The meeting between the Herald and Mother Giselle went well. She has agreed to come to Haven and assist Sister Leliana with the names of those in the Chantry who might grant us an audience. She also suggested that the Herald herself visit Val Royeaux to address those who are condemning her. I'll leave that with you all to consider. The Herald agrees with the idea. You may expect Mother Giselle to arrive within a week.  _

_ The Herald does not plan to return to Haven as yet. There is still much to be done in the region. She is unfortunately prone to distraction, eager to converse with whomever she encounters and offers to assist them where possible. It is a reflection, I think, of her kind nature, but it has gotten in the way of more pressing concerns such as making contact with Dennet, the horse master I had heard of. _

_ It has however led to our acquiring a few new agents to our cause and the goodwill of many people; small dividends perhaps but successes nonetheless. We are also still hampered by ongoing skirmishes in the area, multiple rifts, unfriendly wildlife and rough terrain. _

_ I am pleased to report that the Herald is a respectable fighter and commands herself well in a fray. She is a very powerful mage and not one to be trifled with. Those who have either witnessed her in action or been fortunate enough to survive a confrontation with us have begun to spread word of her strength, which may also be to the Inquisition's benefit.  _

_ I'll send word again in a week's time. The Herald intends for us to spend the morning locating supplies to assist the refugees; hopefully thereafter we can seek out Dennet. - C.P _

 

_ Expect our return before the end of the month. We have achieved much of what we can in the area at present and with some persuasion the Herald is aware that we must make our move with regards to the Chantry as soon as possible. The Herald has convinced Dennet to serve the Inquisition as horsemaster and has also recruited a soldier named Corporal Vale and his men, who will be making the approach to Haven along with a number of refugees. We have promised them shelter and support in exchange for their loyalty. I'm sure Commander Cullen will make respectable soldiers of them in no time. Until our return, Maker's blessings be upon you. - C.P _

 

Cullen had stayed busy in the weeks since Lavellan - ‘The Herald’ - departed for the Hinterlands, welcoming and training new recruits and trying to make something of the tattered remains of their forces. 

He read Seeker Cassandra’s reports with great interest, but found them too spare on details to satisfy his urge to know more about the ‘Herald of Andraste’. He was intrigued when Josephine announced that she'd received a letter back from Clan Lavellan’s keeper.

“You contacted her clan? Does the Herald know about this?” Cullen asked.

Josephine raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Of course she does. I asked her whether I might make contact before she left for the Hinterlands, and she said she'd be happy for me to.”

“And if she had said no, we'd have done it anyway,” Leliana added. 

“Yes, but this is much better. Anyway, Keeper Istimaethoriel simply confirmed everything the Herald had already told us,” Josephine stated.

“Which was?”

“Her name is Eliya Lavellan, born into clan Thirainduel and adopted into clan Lavellan at age nine. Keeper Istimaethoriel raised her from that point forward and trained her to become the clan's second. She is a mage, specializing in fire magic and more skilled in fighting than healing or craft. She also added that Eliya is a ‘very good girl’ and that we ought to ‘be patient with her’.”

“Do we know why she was at the conclave?” 

“From what we have gathered, the Lavellan are friendly with humans and interact much more than other clans. Our contacts in the city of Wycome, closest to where the Lavellan are camped, have confirmed this. Keeper Istimaethoriel said that she sent the Herald to spy on the conclave as she believed the events there would impact everyone in Thedas, the Dalish included.”

“And do we believe that reasoning?”

“For now. Nothing my agents have uncovered tells us otherwise. Perhaps the only real reason she was there was because it was fated to be so,” Leliana added.

Cullen made a disgruntled noise. This seemed like a lot to take for granted - if the so-called Herald’s clan was in on whatever plan had led to the destruction at the conclave, they would easily have a cover story for the one they sent to carry it out. 

“Well, right now we have no reason not to trust the Herald. Seeker Cassandra’s reports suggest she is doing good work in the Hinterlands. Let us wait until they return and reassess the situation,” Josephine suggested tactfully.

\---

A few days later, she was back. Cullen was walking out of the chantry early in the morning and heard a commotion outside - a cluster of mages and templars were crowding around two men, throwing insults at each other.

“Your kind killed the Most Holy!”

“Lies! Your kind let her die!”

“Shut your mouth, mage!” The templar reached down to unsheath his sword and Cullen rushed forward, forcing the two apart. “Enough!” he shouted.

“Knight Captain!” the templar called out in surprise. It was extraordinary how hearing those words made his stomach drop with guilt. He was not a templar - he had left that life behind, and with good reason. 

“That is not my title. We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!” he addressed the men and the surrounding crowd, desperate that they would understand. They needed to be united, to recognise the faults on both sides so that they could do what no one else was doing: bring peace. 

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

Ugh - Chancellor Roderick had returned to make a nuisance of himself. Cullen turned to look at him with barely concealed frustration.

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

“I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and it's Herald will restore order as you've promised,” the bitter old man remarked. As he gestured to the crowd, Cullen spotted her standing among them. Eliya’s arms were folded, with the fingers of her unmarked hand pressed against her lips as she surveyed the situation. She saw Cullen's glance and gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Standing quiet and unnoticed amongst so many people, with the wind making her hair float about ethereally, she seemed more like a ghost or spirit than flesh and bone. 

Cullen turned his attention back to Chancellor Roderick. “Of course you are,” he said dismissively. “Back to your duties, all of you!” The crowd dispersed at his command, but not without a good deal of grumbling. What would it take for these people to see reason?

Chancellor Roderick, however, was a man beyond reason. He scrunched up his face in disgust as he saw the Herald approaching, a look that made him so intensely unlikeable Cullen started to feel more on the Herald's side than he had yet been.

“Mages and templars were already at war. Now they're blaming each other for the Divine’s death,” Cullen stated plainly.

“Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order,” Chancellor Roderick replied.

“Who? You? Random clerics who weren't important enough to be at the conclave?”

“The rebel Inquisition and it's so called ‘Herald of Andraste?’ I think not,” the old man scoffed.

“So far,  _ you're _ the only one insisting we can't work together,” said the Herald, directing her scrutinizing gaze at the Chancellor.

“We might, if your Inquisition would recognise the Chantry’s authority.”

“There  _ is _ no authority until another Divine is chosen,” Cullen countered.

“In due time, Andraste will be our guide. Not some dazed wanderer on a mountainside.”

“Do you think it can wait that long? I've seen the templars and the mages still fighting, leaving the Hinterlands torn apart in their wake. They're fighting even though we don't know what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” the Herald added with a note of distaste.

“Exactly why this should all be left to a new Divine. If you are innocent, the chantry will establish it as so,” Chancellor Roderick retorted. She raised her eyebrows, either in surprise or disapproval, Cullen couldn't tell. He, for one, thought that was entirely false. He hated to go against the Chantry, but their reaction thus far told him that reason would be very much lacking in their approach to dealing with the strange woman that stood before him.

“Or they'll be happy to use someone as a scapegoat.”

His comment drew a long and unfathomable stare from the Herald. He tried to ignore the feeling of her ponderous eyes on him.

“You think nobody cares about the truth? We all grieve Justinia’s loss.”

“But you won't grieve if the Herald of Andraste is conveniently swept under a carpet.”

Chancellor Roderick began to splutter, but the Herald cut across him, her eyes still fixed on Cullen.

“I'll make sure they see reason in Val Royeaux.” 

“I hope you're right,” Cullen replied, meeting her gaze.

Then they both watched in silence as the Chancellor threw up his hands and stalked off. Cullen wondered if the Herald and her party had returned to Haven in the night. But then surely someone would have notified him when he woke?

“I must have missed your return to camp, Herald. When did you make it back?”

“Just now. We walked in the gates, I left the others to clean up and take a break while I came up here to speak with you and the other advisors.”

So she was fresh off the road. He couldn't tell - she looked calm and wide-eyed as ever. 

“Was it an easy journey back?”

She jerked her head noncommittally. “Easy enough. I'm desperately hungry, but I wanted to get things moving for Val Royeaux before anything else.”

“You needn't have done that! The Chantry isn't going anywhere, a meeting can wait until after breakfast, you know,” he replied, trying to sound kind and not dismissive.

She smiled at him, a very small but very warm thing. “Thanks, Commander. But I'd like to speak with all of you about our plans anyway.”

“I'll have one of my men pass on a message to the others. We can convene in an hour - that'll give you some time to breathe,” he suggested.

“That does sound like a better plan. Until then, Commander,” she dismissed him, wandering off gracefully in the direction of the tavern.

\---

Cullen couldn’t believe that the Herald - and Josephine for that matter - really thought it was a good idea for her to travel to Orlais and address a crowd that would be baying for her blood. He had seen the rage of the people left behind in Haven after the conclave, even sympathised with it. Those left in Orlais would have heard only rumours of what really happened, and would only believe the worst of those - the ones that framed the Herald as a heretic and a murderer. Cullen might not trust her entirely, but he wasn’t about to dangle her as bait before the waiting wolves.

He was surprised by how determined Seeker Cassandra was to do this, and to stand by the Herald’s side. What had the woman done to gain her trust? As their meeting concluded, he decided the easiest way to find out was to ask.

“Seeker, could I have a word?”

Cassandra nodded brusquely and they moved off to a quiet corner of the Chantry. Cullen felt the Herald’s eyes on him for just a moment, before she turned and left with Josephine. He waited until she was gone before addressing Cassandra.

“Forgive me, Seeker, but I must ask - are you confident that the Herald has been honest with us about her role in the what happened at the conclave? Do you think we can trust her?”

The Seeker didn’t look surprised, in fact he was relieved that she seemed to understand his concern.

“I do believe she is innocent, Commander, no matter how suspicious the circumstances of her survival were. From the moment we let her out of her cell, she has done her utmost to assist us. She has not run, and if she had tried while we were in the Hinterlands I could not have stopped her. I am not sure what purpose brought her to us, or whether she is truly ‘the Herald of Andraste’, but I think she is a decent person trying to make the best of a very bad situation,” Cassandra replied.

“There is something about her that seems wrong to me - her manners are odd, forced. She might be using us until we are no longer useful to her,” Cullen suggested, putting the fear that had lingered in the forefront of his mind into words.

“I agree that she doesn’t seem entirely normal, but you must remember that she has been raised amongst the Dalish. Don't confuse her calmness for complacency, Commander Cullen, it would be an unjust mistake. I can tell you with certainty, even after spending just a few weeks travelling by her side, that she cares deeply about people and the world around her. She's doing her best. You ought to give her a chance.”

Cullen nodded half-heartedly, unconvinced. As he made his way back out to where his recruits were training, he probed his mind to try and pinpoint just what exactly it was that unnerved him about her.

Her mannerisms and temper were certainly part of it. He considered himself a thoughtful person, and in possession of good self-control. But she took it that one step further - you could almost sense the machinations of her mind as she spoke to you, processing what she was hearing and devising the most palatable response. So eager to help, so desperate not to offend, so calm in the face of danger and violence. It made her seem less than human.

He knew that magic was a part of it too. He didn’t need Cassandra’s reports to tell him that she was powerful - the lyrium left in his blood sang just from being near her. It was like a lurking predator beneath that mask of calmness and passivity. The way she fidgeted with her hands made him think that she was fighting the impulse to use her power at every turn. Or what if she was an abomination, and the stilted way she conversed was because of the battle between wills controlling her mind? How did the Dalish ensure their mages were strong enough to withstand the lure of demons? 

Then something within him, a dark and cynical voice, said that it wasn’t possible for her to be their saviour. What had they done to deserve help in the form of a ‘Herald’? He thought it more likely that the Maker would have seen the hatred and violence running rampant across their world right now, and turned away from them completely. For her to be young, beautiful, kind, thoughtful, strong and have the exact power they needed to restore peace - it was too good to be true. That gave Cullen a sinking feeling of shame. His own crisis of faith was not a good enough reason for him to question her motives. None of his reasons were, really. 

“Got a lot on your mind, Curly?” Came a deep voice from somewhere nearby. Cullen looked up out of his daze and saw Varric watching him bemusedly. He must have been standing there staring blankly for some time. 

He had known the dwarf for many years now - just as a passing acquaintance in Kirkwall, really, but they’d had enough to do with each other in the end. Varric had always struck him as a shrewd judge of character, in the way that he ran his business and in his choice of friends. Perhaps even in the books he wrote - being good at that sort of thing required a certain understanding of the way other people think. He had been out on the road with the Herald for the last few weeks too - maybe he could ease Cullen’s discomfort with regards to her.

“Yes, actually,” Cullen responded, walking over to where the dwarf stood. “I admit to being more than a little - uncertain - of what to think about our Herald of Andraste. I wonder if you might - share your thoughts - about her. As you've been out on the road. I'm trying to get a clearer picture.”

Varric eyed him with suspicion. “What is it about her that's got you stumped, then?”

“She's just - she's quite strange, wouldn't you say?” Cullen explained weakly.

“No, I wouldn't say that. Strange is a relative term, Curly. A tear in the sky that craps out demons, a sole survivor marked with magic that could close it, that shit is weird for sure. Eliya herself is just a unique sort of person. If you're worried whether the woman is  _ dangerous _ , my answer would be hell yes. She's one of the strongest mages I've ever seen - but that’s not a bad thing if she’s on your side. Just about a week ago we stumbled across a rift, one of the last ones we closed in the Hinterlands, and I was getting ready to shoot a finishing shot over to a wraith when I heard this roar behind me. A terror demon had spawned out of nowhere and it threw me on my back. I barely had time to react before Eliya came sprinting over, pushing me back and throwing up an inferno of a fire wall where the terror was standing. It was so hot I swear it nearly burned my eyebrows off. Then she twisted her staff and jammed the blade right into the bastard’s guts, holding it in place in the flames like she was toasting a damn marshmallow. I managed to shoot it in the eye to finish it off, and she just pulled out the blade, took a deep breath and  _ smiled _ at me like we'd just been having a friendly chat. She's got a whole lot bubbling away under the surface, I can tell you that. But that's where she keeps it - she channels all the fear and the anger and frustration she feels into  _ kicking ass _ . Maybe I'd be more worried if you wanted to put her on a pedestal away from the action but for now? She's got a whole lot of self-control and she's damned clever to boot.”

Cullen should have known not to expect a very direct answer from the storyteller. He had to question whether the self-control Varric mentioned might also be a tool she was using to hide her real feelings. 

“Let me guess - you're worried that we can't trust her? That she seems too calm and collected after everything that's happened to her,  and you think that means that she's not who she says she is and she's just banking on the fact that we all think she's pretty and nice and helpful until she shows her true colours?” Varric remarked before Cullen had said a word. 

“Well I - yes, the thought did cross my mind. Is it so absurd?”

“You're looking for something that's not there, because there's something about her that makes you uneasy. I can tell you what it is: the fact that she's a mage. I know your history, Curly, and I can see you're working on your prejudices. But you aren't there yet.”

“My prejudices aside, Varric, something still doesn’t add up. If she’s as powerful as you say she is, why does she play the part of being sweet and innocent?”

“Maybe because she knows if people see how strong her magic is, they’ll be afraid of her! Don’t you think she might have put up those defenses because people have hurt her in the past? Besides, the fact that she has a lot of power and knows how to use it doesn’t have to mean that she  _ isn’t _ sweet. Let me tell you this, in case it makes you feel any better: that girl is not all calm and cool and okay. She's fucking terrified.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told me, because I'm the only one who actually asked. She doesn't  _ tell _ people what she's really feeling because she doesn't want  _ them _ to have more to worry about.”

“Oh. I see.” Cullen felt properly chastised. If she really was afraid, his attitude towards her probably wasn’t helping. She had known he was a templar from the start - what if the reason she seemed so nervous around him was because she thought he would hate her, a mage, on principal? 

“Give her a chance. She's doing her best,” Varric spoke through Cullen’s returning daze.

“That's what Seeker Cassandra said.”

Varric chuckled. “Yeah, well, it's true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've sat on this chapter for over a week; it seems a little roundabout and repetitive to me. But I really wanted to establish Cullen being deeply mistrustful of my Inquisitor to begin with, partly because of his own prejudices and partly because of her strange behaviour. Next chapter will be from Eliya's POV as they continue to try and figure each other out.


	3. Being human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya Lavellan isn't used to being around humans, nor is she good at making friends. As she delves deeper into helping the Inquisition, she finds herself needing to learn fast.
> 
> "Now she could see that course wouldn't work on the path being laid before her; she was already more involved than she could have possibly imagined. She was going to have to work with these people, and she wanted to do it well. What's more, she was starting to tire of her life of distance and facile interactions. For the first time she was surrounded by people who seemed exciting and different and new, people she actually wanted to understand and call her friends."

Eliya had liked the Hinterlands much more than Val Royeaux. The city was certainly impressive, but it was nothing compared to the towering beauty of the Frostback Mountains, the feeling of cool air early in the morning, the colours changing from green to red and brown under the wide open sky.

In comparison, Val Royeaux was soulless in its grandeur. The streets made her feel claustrophobic and she heard the whispers of people wherever they walked, eyes constantly on the back of her neck. She knew what the Orlesians thought of her people, but she could never have been prepared for the glares and hissed remarks - calling her rabbit, knife-ear, beast. One woman even cried out in disgust and fear at the sight of her walking proudly through the streets, armed with a staff and backed by her party.

This was where her ability to maintain her composure was most helpful. She found it unnerved those who insulted her if she didn't react; they were disappointed, cheated of their right to make her ashamed of what she was. And it made them afraid. They were used to elves who cowered in fear, or tales of those who behaved as barbarians. She would perform neither part for them, nor would she hide her elvenness and pretend to be like them.

Elf or human, it seemed their hopes for working alongside the Chantry and reasoning with them were dashed. Even after the Templars put on such a disgraceful display, the Chantry sisters wouldn't soften. The were obstinate in their insistence that the Inquisition was something to be feared. Still, it hadn't all been for a loss. They had returned to Haven with an invitation from the leader of the mages rebellion, Fiona, and two new members of the Inquisition. Vivienne and Sera couldn't have been more different, but she saw how each of them could be very useful, and liked them well enough.

The advisors had heard from Leliana's spies about their confrontation in Val Royeaux, and while they had bemoaned the actions of the Lord Seeker only Josephine seemed inclined to turn to the mages instead. It puzzled Eliya - one group had shown themselves to be hostile, the others open to conversation. Cullen had a point that the mages might be just as divided as the templars - but why disdain the thought of even investigating that lead?

She was alternately baffled by and enamoured with Commander Cullen. Seeing him storm through the chantry doors and insist that they were all part of the Inquisition seemed such a stark contrast to the terseness and suspicion that she sensed in his attitude towards her, and in his impassioned rejection for the thought of enlisting the rebel mages. She knew her own behaviour was making things worse - he made her nervous.

She'd always been terrible at making friends and meeting new people. With the others, she was starting to break through the calm, cold veneer that masked her shyness and uncertainty. She focused on finding small points of common ground to meet them on, trying to ask questions and get them to talk about themselves enough that she could start to figure them out. It was a different game to the one she had played most of her life; she was used to not fitting in and going her own way. Things had been that way from the moment she joined Clan Lavellan - the other children looked at her like some sort of imposter at first, and teased her for the way she liked to walk off alone and always had her head in the clouds. They'd grown to tolerate her, in time, but she'd never really belonged there.

As she got older and interacted with humans and other clans more, she learned how to turn her blank stares into what would be perceived as endearing coyness. It helped that she was pretty - that was enough to blind some people. No one would get to know the real her, but she could get what she needed from people - information, a sale, some meaningless physical affection.

Now she could see that course wouldn't work on the path being laid before her; she was already more involved than she could have possibly imagined. She was going to have to work with these people, and she wanted to do it well. What's more, she was starting to tire of her life of distance and facile interactions. For the first time she was surrounded by people who seemed exciting and different and new, people she actually wanted to understand and call her friends.

But for all the progress she was making, there was something about Cullen that threw her off. She knew her stares and carefully chosen words unnerved him, but she just couldn't figure him out. To be fair, she'd barely had any time to spend with the man; so far it had all been War Council meetings where she tried to heed the different advice coming from all angles. She felt like a referee, and each of her advisors had such different approaches to the problems before them that she knew she would always disappoint one of them. More often than not, it seemed to be Cullen. As such she resolved to actively seek him out whenever possible, determined to solve the puzzle that he was to her.

One morning she observed Cullen training their new recruits, standing amongst the clashing swords and moving bodies as snow fell around them. He looked quite dashing, and Eliya enjoyed the sight for a short time before making her approach. He saw her coming, and didn't bother with pleasantries, launching into an explanation of their armies’ situation. She didn't know how to respond to any of it, nor the way he crossed his arms before her. “I just hope that I can help,” was what she ended up opting for, feeling it inadequate in the face of everything.

“As do we all. It is enough that you would try,” he responded curtly, and Eliya cast her eyes down. _Was it enough?_

He began to explain how he had joined the Inquisition after the uprising in Kirkwall, seeing that Cassandra was one of the few really seeking a solution to the conflict engulfing so much of Thedas. Eliya was intrigued by how much confidence he seemed to have in the Inquisition - and with a small, prompting question he launched into his frustrations about the Chantry’s inaction. He declared an impassioned belief in the Inquisition's potential to really do something, to be a force for good - and then stopped short.

“I'm sorry. I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

Had she given him a reason to think she wasn't interested in his perspective?

“No, but if you have one prepared I'd love to hear it,” she replied.

He smirked - that was a good sign. Eliya's heart fluttered a little bit at the effect it had on his already handsome face. “Another time perhaps.”

Then, just as quickly as it had blossomed, the ease between them disappeared. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, looking away, and stammered something about there being a lot of work still to do. Was it his awkward way of dismissing her? He needn't have bothered, as half a moment later one of his men approached with an important something-or-other and he marched off. She did like the look he gave her, sort of over his shoulder as he left - a mixture of that smirk and some exasperation.

The next time she spoke to him, she asked about his life before the Inquisition. He was very guarded about some things - she was intrigued by him saying that he was at Fereldan's Circle during the Blight, but he would give her very little on the subject. She thought it must be painful to remember how the darkspawn had ravaged his homeland. On Kirkwall he was more descriptive.

“While I was there the Qunari occupied and then attacked the city. The viscounts murder caused political unrest.  Relations between mages and templars fell apart. An apostate blew up the chantry. The Knight Commander went mad. Other than that it was fine,” he explained with a touch of asperity. Eliya liked his dry sense of humour.

She also realised she knew very little about templars - her clan had always avoided them as they had lost people at their hands in the past. She wanted to know why he decided to become a templar, what it involved, what their purpose was. He answered politely, but she sensed his tension when she asked his feelings about magic and mages themselves. He told her that he considered his past actions unworthy, though he was still wary of the risks magic posed.

Eliya appreciated his honesty. His answers seemed to tell the story of a man who had believed in a good cause and pledged himself to it, but who had suffered in a way that twisted that purpose into something wrong. Eliya could understand, even though it made her question how he would see her, having grown up without those safeguards to keep her in check. _Was she a risk, a disaster waiting to happen?_ He said templars had to keep themselves detached from their charges, lest action be necessary. But he was no longer a Templar, and she was not a circle mage.  
  
Still, after a few days of making an effort to get to know the man, she felt far more at ease. She had even pushed past her shyness to ask a teasing question about his vows. It had elicited an awkward, stammered response that made her giggle inside while she remained coy externally. She liked throwing him off his guard like that - it levelled the playing field between them. She hoped that might be the pathway to friendship, or at least a place to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this chapter again! I've got other chapters further down the track that are basically fully written, I'm just trying to lay some ground work for the characters here so bear with me.


	4. Wanderings / Wonderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald keeps wandering off on her own. Cullen wants to know why.
> 
> "He kept his distance at first - his armour wasn't exactly made for stealth - until she ventured under the cover of the forest. He watched as she laid her hand on one tree trunk, and took a deep breath in and out. He could hear her speaking elvhen, unfamiliar words reaching him like whispers on the wind. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck."

"Where did the Herald go?"

Cullen overheard one of the new recruits ask as he descended the slope leading towards the frozen lake. The two soldiers were meant to be keeping watch over the area, and to Cullen that included having their eyes on the Herald. She had been in and out of Haven a lot recently, making trips to the Storm Coast and even the Fallow Mire to build the Inquisition’s power. The Herald had managed to recruit a Grey Warden named Blackwall and a band of mercenaries called the Chargers - both valuable assets for their cause.

Cullen wondered if she was more focused out on these expeditions, or if her companions just kept her under better control. Otherwise he couldn't be certain how she managed to be so effective, for whenever they returned to Haven she had a tendency to disappear for periods of time, or to do inadvisable things - like the other day, when she had tried to test how far she could walk out onto the ice sheet that covered the lake. Cullen had tried to warn her against taking such risks, endeavoured to remind her that she was in constant danger from the Inquisitions enemies. She had just tilted her head at him in that strange way, and said she'd spent her whole life out in the wilds and wasn't the type to stay cooped up for long.

"Don't worry, Commander. I know how to handle myself," she'd added politely.

He'd made a specific request to his men from then on that they ought to monitor her movements outside the Haven walls. He knew she had come down to the lake only recently - he had watched her walking and humming to herself from his vantage point training his men. Now it seemed she had disappeared.

While not a rogue, she was certainly very quiet and stealthy. He swore she barely made a sound when she walked - it must be due to her lightness, as an elf. As his eyes scanned the nearby treeline, he realised that the soldiers had not noted his presence, and their remarks about the Herald had turned somewhat more vulgar.

"I wonder if the Commander would let me tail her around the clock? Now that's a job I'd gladly sign up for - in fact, the Inquisition could use it to encourage recruitment!"

The other man laughed. "She's certainly easy on the eyes, for an elf and a mage."

"Ha - like either of those things would bother you if it meant getting some action."

"I wonder if being Dalish would mean she's - wild, you know? Less inhibited than human girls."

"Oh yeah. So where do you think she went? I miss looking at those gorgeous lips and her perfect a-"

Cullen blushed and strode forward to reprimand the two men, but stopped short when he noticed something that made him go bright red - the Herald had just dropped to her feet from a tree branch not a metre away from where they stood. He could have sworn he had checked those trees just moments before! The mischievous glint in her eyes told him that she had heard every word - and she knew he had too.

"I'm right here, boys. Kind of you to miss me," she said clearly, making them both jump a mile. When they turned to see where she was, they also caught sight of Cullen, doubling their unease.

"Herald - Commander! Excuse us, we were - that is..."

Eliya silenced their spluttering, raising her hand and shushing them with a mixture of grace and sass.

"I have to say, Commander, you'll have to make sure your men are better trained. They were so very easy to sneak up on. If I had been an enemy of the Inquisition, well, they would have been dead before they could finish talking about my perfect ass."

She directed her reprimand at Cullen, and he flushed an even deeper red - a mixture of embarrassment and anger at the recruits. She farewelled Cullen with a salacious wink and sauntered off, giving them all a fine view of her aforementioned features. Cullen fought the urge to stare by glowering instead at the recruits.

Cullen sought the Herald out again later that day. He'd berated the recruits for a time about paying attention, treating their leaders with respect and maintaining a modicum of decency. Eliya had been in conversation with Solas, and looked troubled, until she spotted Cullen approaching. He didn't know whether to be embarrassed or gratified by the return of her mischievous smile.

"Herald, I wanted to apologize for the behaviour - and language - of my men this morning."

She gave a small shrug. "It's no harm done, really. They weren't harassing me or trying to make me uncomfortable. It's not the worst possible thing that people might find me attractive - for 'a mage and an elf', as they said."

Cullen frowned. "You are the Herald of Andraste, it is essential that our people treat you with the respect you deserve."

"The same basic respect any person should receive, certainly. But I've not done anything so special yet to expect to be revered or held to a higher standard than others. Aside from being spat out of the Fade with a shiny mark on my hands, and assisting a few refugees in the Hinterlands."

"You are - vital - to the goals of the Inquisition," Cullen protested.

Eliya smiled more broadly and waved her marked hand again. "No, it's the mark that's vital, and I'm just the one who wields it. When I manage to get us some allies and use the thing to close the rift - that's when I might have done something worth praising. That's when people might talk about me with some respect - even if it is 'she did a good thing, for an elf and a mage.'"

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine it is pleasant to have those terms used as qualifiers against you.”

Eliya shrugged again. “I’ve had worse words thrown at me. And it’s a good thing I’ve had enough time being myself in this world to be confident that I'm actually a fairly excellent person, despite what other people might think.”

She was lucky, he thought, to think that about herself. Perhaps it was the key to her being so calm and reasonable all the time. Cullen didn't feel calm at all - instead he felt exasperated. For all that he was warming to her, and certainly respected all of the work she had done so far, she was still so damned confusing. How could she at once say that she was nothing and no one special, and at the same time have the confidence to brush off insults so casually?

\---

Again Cullen spotted the Herald leaving Haven the next day, this time taking a path that wound up a hill and into another set of trees that overlooked the village. To his chagrin, he knew she wasn't being followed, and she didn't have a staff with her. Was she really naive enough to think she wasn't in danger?

Cullen made the decision quickly: he would follow her, and see what it was that she got up to on these little forays out of town.

He kept his distance at first - his armour wasn't exactly made for stealth - until she ventured under the cover of the forest. He watched as she laid her hand on one tree trunk, and took a deep breath in and out. He could hear her speaking elvhen, unfamiliar words reaching him like whispers on the wind. It made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

She walked slowly deeper into the forest, at one point stooping to pick the leaves of some unknown plant. That was when he decided to approach her - a poor choice, as it were. He stepped out from behind a tree and had only begun to say "Herald" when she sprang to her feet. A knife flashed in the space between them that matched the flash he saw in her eyes; a warning, not an attack.

She was crouched, hands raised in front of her defensively, every muscle ready. He got the impression of a startled cat - even her long ears seemed to have flattened back against her head. She had fast reflexes, but a knife wouldn't have kept her safe if he had been a true enemy.

"Commander Cullen - forgive me, I didn't realise it was you," she apologized, stowing the knife back into the hidden sheath she had stitched into her coat.

"I startled you, it's my fault. You carry a knife, but not a staff?"

She smirked. "I don't suppose circle mages are allowed knives, hmm? Yes, every self-respecting elf carries a knife, and I happen to be one of those. It's a better weapon for situations like this anyway - a lot less chance of me blowing up one of your scouts if I mistook them for a demon."

"And if you faced a real enemy?"

"I could do enough damage with my bare hands to last until I had help," she replied with a shrug.

"That's not... that's not a wise plan. It would be better - safer - if you avoided coming out here alone altogether. At least ask a guard or two to come with you in future."

"I don't need to ask them when you've already ordered your men to follow me."

"I - well - yes, I - I admit that I did give the order, as I - I noticed you had a habit of walking off alone. It's not - advisable," Cullen stammered.

She tilted her head as he spoke, eyes wide as though she was confused. A moment after he stopped speaking, he saw her face fall in the most subtle way. If he hadn't been paying attention, he might not have noticed it, but there it was all the same: a gentle, and beautiful sadness had made its way upon her features.

"You still don't trust me."

Cullen began to stammer again, and cursed inwardly; he found himself flustered under her curious gaze - as though her large green eyes could see past his propriety and self control.

"Don't feel bad. These are dangerous times. And it is normal for people to fear what they - what they don't understand."

Coming from anyone else, Cullen would perceive that as an insult. But in her thoughtful voice it was a simple statement of truth.

"I don't really understand all of you yet, either. I'm trying to. But all this trying gets exhausting. I'm not used to your type of living. I come out here because it makes sense to me. It helps me feel - better."

He hadn't thought much about how different everyday life at Haven might be from what she was used to. It might have been apparent in the way she spoke and studied people, the questions she asked, the way she reacted to things. Their ways must have been as much of a mystery to her as she was to them; a puzzle she had been thrown into the middle of and expected to figure out. He felt guilty, now, for his suspicion. Varric and Cassandra had both told him she was trying, and she had made the effort to ask him about his life. He wanted to try as well.

"What is it that - makes sense to you out here?"

She smiled gently, and he thought she recognised the question as a peace offering.

"They say in the Emerald Graves there is a tree growing for every elf that died during the Exalted March. That's what my people do when someone dies - we plant a tree over their body. There are even some elves who believe that every tree in Thedas represents an elf that once lived. We may no longer have immortality, but our spirits live on in the trees."

"What do you believe?"

Her face clouded with sadness again. "I'm not sure any more. After everything that has happened. But - I know that when I come out here, I feel - better. If you close your eyes, take a deep breath and really listen, you can hear them. Breathing, whispering on the wind. Out here I can be alone, but not lonely."

Cullen was suddenly reminded of a place he used to visit as a child - a dock on the water of Lake Calenhad. He had gone there, often, for some peace away from his siblings. It wasn't that he didn't love his family, but he needed space, somewhere he could just be with his own thoughts. He hadn't thought about that place, about his home in Honnleath at all for some time. It made him happy, and more so that it was Eliya who reminded him of it. Here she was, away from everything she knew. He couldn't blame her for trying to find some peace amongst it all.

"I see. Could you maybe - let someone know when you're coming out here, at least? That's a - compromise."

She smiled. "I could do that. You could come with me sometimes, if you like. I'll show you how to climb trees."

"I uh- I'm not sure I'd be any good at that."

Her eyes lit up. "It's easy once you get the hang of it! Maybe not with all that armour, though."

Before he could protest she had sprung up to grasp a branch above her head, and flung herself over to stand on it. In three swift moves she moved around the trunk and up further, before taking a seat with her legs dangling in the air. His mouth went dry seeing the way the flew through the air, feet barely taking hold before she pushed on to the next. One slip and she would fall and break her neck. She pushed her hair back off her face and grinned down at him. "See? Easy."

"Please be careful, Herald," he asked in a pained voice. She just laughed. He was struck by how young she seemed, joyful and full of life. He hoped, perhaps in vain, that she would be able to retain that spirit through what was to come.

"I normally go a lot higher than this, Commander. There's a really good spot a few trees away - you can see over the canopy and across the whole valley. It's great to get a little perspective." She called down.

The thought made him queasy. "I'll have to take your word for it."

"You're no fun."

He held his breath as she tumbled back down, landing neatly beside him. "I'm sure you're very good at that, but it only takes one foot wrong and you could seriously hurt yourself," he told her sternly.

"I know - it's happened before," she responded, tapping the scar that ran through her eyebrow and up into her hairline. "Fell out of a tree and into a ravine when I was fifteen. Cracked my head open and broke my arm, plus I was stuck down there for about an hour before one of our hunters found me."

So that was where she had got the scar from, Cullen thought to himself. "Why do you still climb like that then?"

"Because it makes me happy. You don't give up on the things you love just because there's a little risk involved. That's not living."

Admittedly, the most cheerful he ever saw her was when she returned from her forays alone. That was one of the things that made him suspicious in the first place - seeing her change even temporarily from being so reserved and thoughtful. Though she did seem to like teasing him - once or twice he might have thought she was even flirting. He was gratified to think that she might enjoy his company. Or perhaps he was overthinking it - she had already said that being in the forest soothed her, so he probably had nothing to do with it.

He wanted to be someone that made her happy. He was here to be Commander of the Inquisition's forces, and he must do that well. It was his chance to atone. It would also be his chance to protect her, to do his part in stemming the tide of darkness that threatened her, threatened them all.

"We had best be getting back to Haven. There's a lot of work to be done. Will you accompany me?" He asked politely.

"Certainly, Commander. Lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I like this chapter. I like writing original scenes more than adapting scenes directly from the game I think - more freedom!  
> I took some liberties with elven culture stuff here, I hope it works.


	5. A much maligned alliance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya goes out in search of allies, and faces more than she bargained for. Cullen disapproves of every move the Herald makes.
> 
> '“I'm going. Let them roll out the welcome mat for me - I'll be the worst house guest Alexius has ever had,” she declared.'

Going to meet the mages in Redcliffe had not gone to plan. If Eliya had been initially thrown by the Grand Enchanters’ odd behaviour, it was nothing compared to meeting a Tevinter Magister who now claimed the mages as his property, or discovering that there was magic at play that threatened the fabric of time. Then there was the fact that she had somehow become a point of obsession for a Tevinter cult. Strange and exciting times, she thought dryly. At least this other Tevinter, Dorian, and the magisters son Felix seemed inclined to help. 

Help with what exactly was not yet clear, as the advisors were still bickering incessantly about what to do next. 

“We don't have the manpower to take the castle! Either we find another way in or we give up this nonsense and go get the Templars,” Cullen argued, hands resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister! This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra countered.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It's an obvious trap!” said Josephine.

All three of them were right in their own way, but Eliya agreed with Cassandra. Now that they had seen what was happening, they had to do something about it. 

“Isn't that kind of him. What does Alexius say about me?” Eliya asked with a wry smile

“He's so complimentary, we are certain he wants to kill you,” Leliana replied. 

_Everyone wants to kill me_ , Eliya thought.

“Not this again!” Josephine added, exasperated.

“Redcliffe Castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Fereldan. It has withstood thousands of assaults. If you go in there, you'll die, and we'll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won't allow it,” Cullen exclaimed stubbornly.

“And if we don't even try to stop Alexius, we lose the mages, and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep.”

On and on they went, and Eliya was tired of it. She felt the first risings of irritation in her normally calm temper. 

“There has to be another way in!” she demanded. As Leliana told it, there was. A secret passage that would allow their agents to get into the castle. What they needed was a distraction to ensure they wouldn't be noticed: Eliya would be that distraction. 

“It's risky, but it could work,” Cullen said, frowning. Then the wooden doors burst and Dorian, the Tevinter, strutted in. “Fortunately, you'll have help,” he announced, and smirked at Eliya with a raised eyebrow. She grinned back slyly.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you are going after him, I'm coming along,” Dorian added. Eliya moved her eyes from Dorian's face to Cullens, and was unsurprised to see that the Commander looked deeply uncomfortable with the situation. 

“The plan puts you in the most danger. We can't in good conscience ask you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you'd rather not play the bait - it's up to you.” Cullen spoke directly to Eliya, and she felt something undiscernable in his tone of voice - was it frustration? Or pleading? He had said only moments ago that he wouldn't allow them to risk losing her power to close rifts. But that magic was currently useless against the bigger threat of the Breach - she needed the mages, and even if the Templars were an option, they needed to deal with Alexius.

Eliya had no issue with ‘playing the bait’, as he had put it. She would walk into Redcliffe Castle, head held high, and she'd be sweetness itself as they negotiated with Alexius. Then, if he tried to pull anything, or once the agents made it through, there wouldn't be an enemy mage or Venatori agent who could stand in the way of her fire. 

“I'm going. Let them roll out the welcome mat for me - I'll be the worst house guest Alexius has ever had,” she declared.

“That's saying something, given the company he kept in Tevinter. You'd never know it by the look of you, but I’ve got a feeling you'll be much more than he bargained for,” Dorian replied.

\---

Eliya sighed as her horse came over the final crest in the mountain pass that led back to Haven. From here she could see the whole valley, from the frosted lake to the wooden roofs of the village nestled in against the steeper slope of the mountain beyond. They were nearly back, and she was filled with a mixture of apprehension and relief. Leliana's agents would have sent word ahead with the essentials of the situation; and based on Cassandra’s reaction to her decision, Eliya expected she would have some explaining to do. She was glad that Fiona and the mages were a few days behind her, so she would have time to calm things down and prepare people for their arrival. She didn't regret her choice to offer them an alliance, rather than taking them prisoner. They deserved a chance to redeem themselves and she was not interested in slaves. But it all felt bittersweet - this was, really, her first genuine victory, and yet it came with so much difficulty.

Whatever Eliya had expected when she walked into the keep of Redcliffe castle, what actually happened was unimaginably worse. Their plan had worked in essence - the agents made it through and got rid of Alexius’ men. Then Alexius got out that amulet and everything went to shit. The whole way back to Haven, Eliya couldn't shake the thoughts - were they memories if the things she saw hadn't happened yet? Leliana's tortured face, Cassandra and Varric haunted by the red lyrium that poisoned them. The world destroyed, and a demon army that served the mysterious Elder One. 

While the others were full of sympathy, Dorian was the only one who had seen it with her. Despite his confident demeanour, Eliya knew it had terrified him as well - perhaps more so, as he knew Alexius and Felix so well. Eliya was glad to have him with her for the return journey. Sharing an experience like time-travel to a twisted future would be enough to create a bond between any two people - and it helped that she liked Dorian very much anyway. 

“Alright, my dear?” Dorian asked, riding up alongside her. 

“Just bracing myself for what's coming,” she replied wearily.

“Don't think on it. If you want to do the right thing in this world, you might as well get used to being a pariah - I have, after all,” he advised.

“Well it would be just another thing we could have in common,” Eliya replied.

“Indeed. Two impossibly attractive mages from widely hated people groups who are foolish and self-loathing enough to want to make a difference. We ought to get Varric to write a book about us. ‘Tevinter and the Savage’. ‘Dragon and the Halla.”

Eliya laughed, but it was halfhearted. It was time to wrangle her advisors into seeing her point of view, and move straight into action. Once the Breach was closed, they'd have a much less simple task on their hands into restoring order to Thedas. If she did a good enough job here, they might even ask her to stay. 

\--

Cullen was angry. Furious, even.

He had been glad to hear that the Herald and her party had survived, and succeeded in enlisting the assistance of the mages, despite the matter not going as smoothly as they might have hoped.

Though he would have preferred to have recruited the templars, any allies were valuable. He had begun to form a plan of how the mages would be watched and managed when they arrived, so that upon the Herald's return they would have a structure to move forward.

Then in the intervening days, he had been struck with a vicious bout of withdrawal symptoms. The cravings, a lurking need for the song of lyrium in his blood were ever-present, but now and then it would manifest itself into something more physically debilitating. His standard afternoon headaches became skull-splitting migraines, his muscles spasmed and shook as he broke out in cold sweats and he generally felt as though his body was falling apart. Was it lyrium that had knit it together in the first place?

He resisted the need to rest and take a break, instead choosing to ‘soldier on’ even if it left him in a foul temper. If he took time off from his duties whenever the withdrawals struck him, he might as well tell Cassandra to find his replacement. He would not let it defeat him.

As such, Cullen's heart felt lighter when he heard the horn that announced the return of the Herald and her party. That lightness didn't last for long once he heard what she had done. 

“ _Please_ tell me that this is some kind of absurd joke. You're saying that you want the rebel mages welcomed into this camp with no restrictions or surveillance? After they agreed to become slaves to a Tevinter Magister and helped him to displace the arl of Redcliffe? Are you insane?” Cullen growled. Eliya just blinked back at him impassively and gave her answer.

“Not ‘no restrictions’ - just that they receive same treatment as any other member of the Inquisition. That is what I offered them.”

“Were they not inclined to help us otherwise? Did you have no choice but to meet their request?” Josephine asked, a little incredulously.

“No. They probably would have been forced to accept whatever I offered - King Alistair said they would have to leave Fereldan either way. I chose to offer them a full alliance,” Eliya replied calmly.

“Well I am sorry but it simply cannot happen. The mages pose a threat to the safety of our people and they cannot be trusted. When they arrive we will need to impose restrictions and have them guarded at all times. Once the Breach is closed, they will be our prisoners and made to face justice for their actions,” Cullen demanded.

“No. That is not the deal that I offered,” Eliya replied curtly. If Cullen had been less angry himself, he might have noticed the way her nostrils flared with annoyance.

“It's not a matter for debate. There will be abominations amongst the mages and we must be prepared,” he retorted.

“If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it will make the Inquisition look incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst,” Josephine interceded.

This was getting ridiculous. Couldn't they see how risky this was? Mages were more vulnerable to possesion than ever, and they were going to just invite them in and hold their hands like there wasn't a real threat?

“What are you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight? The veil is torn open!” he thundered. 

“We need them to close the breach. It's not going to work if we make enemies of them.”

“I know we need them for the breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves. With the veil broken, the threat of possession is too great. How many lives will be lost if they fail? You were there, Seeker, why didn't you intervene?”

“While I might not completely agree with the decision, I support it,” came Cassandra’s reply.

“It was a foolish decision, made by a child! You are blinded by your own beliefs and you ignore the very real threat this alliance could pose us!”

The look the Herald gave him in that moment made Cullen feel as though he was being crushed in a vice. Anger emanated from her every feature and he felt the crackling energy of her fire bubbling below the surface. When she replied, it was in a bolder voice than he had ever heard her use before.

“I know what the threat is, Commander. You only have to go outside and it is written in the sky. I have listened to all of your advice, taken everything into consideration, done as much to explore our different avenues as I can. But you have asked me to make a decision on the course we should take. This is my decision. I have no interest in forcing people to do my bidding. I will not drag the mages into a new prison.”

He could see that Leliana was glaring at him as well, whereas Josephine simply looked shocked at the turn of the conversation. It was Cassandra who spoke first, reinforcing her support.

“The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages aid, and that was accomplished.”

“The voice of pragmatism speaks. And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments,” came a voice from the doorway. The Tevinter. His appearance served to break the tension - the Herald switched her focus to their new ally and Cullen could breathe again without the fear of her burning him to a crisp.

Why had he said that? It was he who had been childish, and he knew the other advisors felt the same. His head ached with migraine and his hands shook, but even he couldn't excuse such an outburst just because the withdrawals gave him a short temper. He didn't think she was a child. He thought she was brave, even without agreeing on her course of action.

“Closing the breach is all that matters,” Cassandra said firmly, glancing first at Dorian and then glaring at Cullen. 

“I saw what’s at stake. We won't fail at this. We can't,” Eliya spoke again, voice softer now. She was resolutely looking anywhere but at him. Damn it, what had he done? 

“We should look into the things you saw in this dark future. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?” Leliana added, and Cullen saw the change in the Herald's face as her focus switched over to the Spymaster. It was clear, as though she had lost all of the control that usually kept her features blank. An intense mixture of terror and sadness, so distressing she closed her eyes as though to shield herself from the onslaught of those memories. No one else seemed to have noticed, even as her brow creased and a hand reached out to brace herself against the table. 

“One battle at a time!” Cullen interrupted the conversation, hoping to grant her a reprieve. “It's going to take time to organise our troops and the mage - recruits. Lets take this to the war room. Join us - none of this means anything without your mark, after all.” He tried to make the invitation soft, welcoming, but while her mask had slipped back into place her eyes stared back at him with apprehension and anger. Still, her voice was polite and calm when she answered him.

“Thank you. I'd be honoured to help with the plan.”

Eliya seemed to lift again when Dorian announced his intentions to stay and help. The two of them wandered off out the door together, arm in arm, a faint smile returning to the Herald's features. Cullen supposed he should be glad that she had this other man to cheer her up after he had done such a good job of finally pushing her to lose her temper. Still, he wished she had walked out alone - it might have given him the chance to follow her and apologise. 

He would need to do that, and sincerely. All his frustrations, misgivings and fears about her seemed so petty now that he saw them in the light of her anger. Maker, the two of them had been on the path towards some form of friendship, or at least mutual respect before this. He couldn't figure himself out, couldn't understand why she made him feel happy and scared, hopeful and terrified, proud and uncertain all at once.   
  
So he focused on what he did know; they now had the power they needed to close the Breach. A plan of attack - the only thing that made sense to a military minded man like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cullen doesn't know it but his cranky butt is falling in looooove...


	6. To undo what has been done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Breach is closed, and Haven falls. 
> 
> “The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages. There!” said the boy named Cole, moving about as he spoke, pointing out to a rocky outcrop amongst the approaching army. Eliya could just make out two shadowed figures standing there, bearing down on them all.
> 
> “He's very angry that you took his mages.”

The mages arrived a few days later, and despite apprehension on both sides they seemed to settle in quite peacefully. Cullen debated over the logistics of where they would reside - to give them their own dedicated space could either look like segregation or hospitality, just as having them mingle with the existing troops could be perceived as them being guarded, or given equal standing. In the end he dedicated a specific area within the broader camp for them to fill; a compromise, he hoped. The Herald and Solas began working with the new arrivals at once, preparing them for the magic that they believed could close the Breach.

Cullen found himself watching one afternoon, feeling the uncomfortable tingle in his veins that came with so much magic nearby. He focused his eyes on the Herald; so much had been said about her prowess as a fighter, but she wasn't using her full power today. She was still intriguing to observe, the graceful way she moved amongst the gathered mages, giving advice and offering friendly remarks. He knew it wouldn't take long before they all admired her, and would be proud to follow her towards the Breach. It was a good quality she had, one of their greatest weapons. More and more he was realising just how much the Inquisition needed her. 

To his shame, he still hadn't had the strength to properly apologise. It didn't help that she was actively avoiding him, no longer seeking him out for little conversations. It was not that she treated him poorly - she still listened politely as ever to his thoughts in their War Council meetings. But there was no life in their interactions - he could no longer see the spark of her true personality. It seemed she had given up on him. 

“Commander Cullen?” an unfamiliar voice came from behind him. It was Grand Enchanter Fiona, a stern look on her face. 

“Grand Enchanter,” he greeted her cordially. “I hope your people are finding themselves happy with the arrangements here at camp?”

“For the most part. Some are nostalgic for the amenities of Circle life. Others miss the greater freedom of our life as rebels. You cannot please everyone. This is the best situation we might have hoped for.”

“Well, we are glad to have your assistance. We hope to move against the Breach soon.”

“Indeed. Tell me, Commander, why do you watch the mages in this way? It is not the first time I have seen you doing so. Should you not be more concerned with your troops?” 

“It is important for someone leading an army to know how every component of that body operates. I'm interested in the mage's progress and I want to know more about how they fight. So I can ensure they are used as effectively as possible.”

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “And why do you stand ready with your hands on your sword?”

Cullen let go of his sword hilt immediately, taken aback. His hands had been shaking all day, and having something to hold to put him at ease. He had not considered what it might look like to others.

“My apologies - just a force of habit,” he replied hastily. 

“I see. A habit borne from your years as a templar? That is what you were, before you came to join the Inquisition?”

Cullen nodded, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “Yes, I served for many years.”

“Some of my people recognised you, you know. From Kirkwall. Oh, you won't have seen them - they've been hiding ever since they laid eyes upon you.”

Cullen's stomach clenched. “They needn't hide or be afraid. We are allies now and I do not wish them any harm. I have never-”

Fiona cut him off harshly. “Don't tell me you have never wished them harm, Commander, lying gets us nowhere. I wanted to ask you how we are meant to feel like welcomed allies in this place when people watch us from every corner, when the Commander of this army is a man who stood behind one of the worst reigns of terror mages have endured? You stand here with your eyes on us and your hands on your sword, a Templar through and through - how can we feel free?”

Cullen stared back at the Grand Enchanter, her face full of anger, uncertain how to react. To let himself get angry might risk the alliance the Herald had gone through so much to build, and at least confirm Fiona’s worst suspicions of him. He was at a loss.

“Is everything alright here?” 

The Herald - he had not noticed her approaching and neither had the Grand Enchanter.

“Not quite alright, no. Your Commander - do you know about him? About the life he lived before this?” Fiona demanded.

Eliya raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Yes, I'm aware. What concern is it of yours?”

“You say you wish my people to be free, and yet here they find themselves watched over by a Templar! I do not even understand how you can tolerate it, being what you are! This Templar is a threat -”

Now it was Fiona’s turn to be cut off. Cullen had started to speak, but a piercing look from the Herald stopped him in his tracks as she held up a hand to silence Fiona.

“Commander Cullen is not a templar any longer. He serves the Inquisition, and it is only fitting as the leader of our army that he should observe the training of his troops. That is what you and your people are now, Fiona. You have freedom amongst us but you have agreed to be our allies and that means that together we are the Inquisition. The past is irrelevant. Cullen is no longer a templar, nor are you an apostate who led her people into a bloody war and pledged them into the service of a magister. New beginnings go both ways. You'd do well to remember it, and to remind your people of that as well.”

The Grand Enchanter was speechless, and seemed a little chastened. She nodded, and darted a glance back at Cullen. He imagined he looked rather dumbfounded. 

“Believe me, Grand Enchanter, I wish your people no harm. I hope you'll tell those that are afraid of me or any other members of the Inquisition that they need not be,” he added.

“Very well. I apologise then for my - criticism,” she said shortly, and left Cullen and Eliya in an awkward silence.

“Herald - please, allow me to apologize for my outburst the other day.”

She eyed him critically. “Because you mean it, or because you feel you have to?”

“I do mean it. I know that despite what I said, I was the one being childish. I ought to have had more respect for your decision and the reasons behind it.”

To his surprise, she sighed sadly. He saw a glimmer of the tired, confused young woman beneath the calm veneer.

“I don't understand you, Commander. I've tried but - I don't see what else I might have done to prove to you that you can trust me, that I'm doing this for the right reasons.”

“I - I admit I have judged you unfairly. The mages are ready to approach the Breach. I pray this will be enough to close it. I have no intention of endangering your alliance - but I must ensure the safety of those here. That extends to the mages - they are putting themselves at risk for the Inquisition, as are you. Any precautions taken are meant to aid you, nothing more. I hope you will accept them as such. I do have faith that your actions will help us to accomplish our goal.”

She tilted her head to one side, mouth quirked in consideration. “That could be premature - I might still fail.”

“I decided that if I waited to apologize until you had thoroughly proved me wrong, there wouldn't be as much worth in it.”

That earned a grudging smile. 

“Well, there is work to be done. If we do manage to close that breach, maybe the two of us could start afresh?” she offered.

“I'd like that opportunity, Herald.”

As Eliya turned to walk away, Cullen felt the prickle of someone watching him. Shifting to look back down where the mages were training, his eyes met Solas’, the apostate staring sternly back at him. Cullen gave a nod of acknowledgement, which Solas met with a slight inclination of his own head. Then the elf’s focus switched back to Eliya, and Cullen was the one watching. He observed as they exchanged a few sentences, Solas’ brow furrowed with concern. Eliya reached out to touch the apostates’ upper arm, a quick gesture of reassurance, before wandering off amongst the mages again. Cullen watched Solas, and Solas watched Eliya, and he got the feeling that he wasn't the only man left dazed by his interactions with the Herald of Andraste. 

\---

The Breach was closed, and the people of Haven were celebrating. Eliya stood on the steps outside the chantry, enjoying the sight of so many people filled with joy. The sounds of their laughter and music rose through the air, fading into the clouded skies. There would be a storm tonight - Eliya could smell it in the wind - but until then, the streets of Haven would be full of dancing. Mages and soldiers and common folk alike. It filled her with so much hope and pride - this was how people would finally start to see what united them, not what divided them. 

Eliya heard Cassandra approaching, sharing Solas’ findings and offering her congratulations. Eliya reminded her that it was everyone's victory - she had just played a lucky part. 

“A strange kind of luck. I'm not sure if we need more or less of it. You've done well, Herald - far better than we ever could have expected. But you're right - this was a victory of alliance. One of few in recent memory,” Cassandra said with dignified delight.

The clouds had cleared enough on the horizon that she could see the glimmer of a few stray stars. Their path so far had been determined by the skies - was the rest of their journey written there as well, she wondered? Then her eyes narrowed. Those lights were moving against the backdrop of the mountains - they weren't stars. Her jaw dropped as the bells began to ring, The sounds of merrymaking throughout the town changed quickly to fear and panic as the call echoed out, “Forces approaching! To arms!”

“We must get to the gate!” Cassandra shouted, drawing her sword. Eliya nodded and followed her lead, running swiftly through the streets as people called out to them, desperate to know more. Eliya felt cold, and it was more than a chill from the weather. Whatever was happening, she felt fear seeping from the pit of her stomach, her mouth was dry and her heart racing. 

They reached the gate, and Cullen told them what he knew. It was a massive force, and they flew no banners.  

Then a crash, a flash of light, and a voice calling from the other side of the gates - “I can't come in unless you open!”

Eliya heard Cullen shout as she darted forward to pull the gate open - and she gasped as she found herself facing an approaching enemy, fully armoured. Flames danced in her hands in an instant but they weren't needed - the blade of a dagger appeared through the figures’ helmet, and he fell to reveal a strange boy in a very large hat.

“I'm Cole. I came to warn you - to help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know,” he announced in a stammering voice. 

“What is this? What's going on?” Eliya replied, her own voice shaking with fear. 

“The templars come to kill you,” he replied, and before she had a chance to react Cullen was there, shielding her with his body, sword drawn.

“The templars? Is this the orders response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?” he demanded. He looked over his shoulder at Eliya, both to confer on the situation and to check that she was okay. She stared back at him, petrified. She had fought small skirmishes before, with her clan and on her travels with the Inquisition, but had never fought an enemy at this scale.  What could they do?

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his mages. There!” said the boy named Cole, moving about as he spoke, pointing out to a rocky outcrop amongst the approaching army. Eliya could just make out two shadowed figures standing there, bearing down on them all.

“He's very angry that you took his mages.”

Eliya's heart was in her throat. She reached out to grab Cullen’s arm, fingers closing on the cool metal of his armour. She knew nothing about how to win a battle like this. She felt helpless.

“Cullen! Give me a plan - anything!” she begged desperately. His warm brown eyes met hers and saw her own fear reflected in them.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle,” he told her frankly, then swallowed as though he didn't want to give the order he knew he would have to. “Get out there and hit that force with everything you can,” he continued, gesturing towards the trebuchets. Eliya nodded and called out for her companions to follow, setting off for the weapons at a sprint. Behind her, Cullen rallied their forces.

“Inquisition! For the Herald!  For your lives! For all of us!”

After that, everything was a blur. The army was close - the Iron Bull was cutting down as they reached the trebuchets, with Sera shooting a constant stream over their heads and Dorian matching his electricity to her flames. 

Then they managed to fire the trebuchet, triggering an avalanche that buried almost the entire approaching force. Their people cheered, but the cheers were drowned out by a deafening screech and the roar of fire. A dragon.

They fled back behind the Haven gates, rescuing others as they retreated, cutting down enemies where they could. Half the army buried, and the town was still being overrun.

Chancellor Roderick was calling people into the chantry, but something was wrong - he fell into Cole’s arms, clutching his stomach. 

“He tried to stop a templar.  The blade went deep. He's going to die,” Cole explained in his strange, slow voice. 

“What a charming boy,” Roderick groaned, but still their new ally tended to the Chancellor, doing what he could to ease the pain. 

Cullen rushed forward, face strained, armour splashed with blood and filth from the enemies he had cut down. “Herald. Our positioning is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” Cole said softly.

An archdemon. There was so much adrenaline coursing through Eliya’s body, she didn’t think she could feel the full weight of what that meant - but she saw it in Cullen, in his anger at the reality of their defeat.

“I don’t care what it looks like! It’s cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald,” Cole explained, almost as though it should have been obvious.

_ Of course  _ it should have been obvious. What else did the Inquisition have that an army like that could want? What real threat had they posed, before she used her mark to close the Breach and let the world know they meant business?

“If it will save these people, he can have me,” she said calmly, as though bartering with a customer over the price of goods. But Cole wasn’t the one she needed to be making a deal with.

“It won’t. He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he’ll crush them anyway. I don’t like him,” Cole added sadly. 

“You don’t like - ugh,” Cullen gave up on Cole, turning to face Eliya fully. Torture was writ large upon his features, defeat in the gentleness of his voice.

“There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d have to bury Haven,” Eliya stated slowly, wanting to be certain she understood what he was suggesting. Bright green eyes sought golden brown ones, and she knew she had read him right. There was no other way.

“We’d die. But we could decide how. Many don’t get that choice.”

Eliya stood shaking, closing her eyes for a moment as her ears took in the chaotic sounds of fear that surrounded her. She pressed the nail of her thumb into the pads of each finger methodically, grounding herself.  _ All these people. Everything they had done, and still it wouldn’t save them.  _ She asked the gods, Elven and human and any others that might be out there, to show her a different path.  _ Please. This can’t be over. _

“Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies,” Cole announced, and Eliya’s eyelids flickered open again. There  _ was  _ a different path - a literal one. One that could lead the people to safety, get them out of Haven before the avalanche.

“What about it Cullen? Will it work?”

“Possibly. If he shows us the path - but what of your escape?”

This time it was his eyes seeking, and she watched the darkness creep in as he realised what she meant to do. 

“Perhaps you will surprise it. Find a way,” he pleaded with the last shreds of his hope. As Cullen rallied his people to evacuate, Chancellor Roderick spoke again.

“Herald. If you are meant for this - if the Inquisition is meant for this - I pray for you.” 

Eliya simply nodded. Several of her companions approached, drawing their weapons as though they would fight. “We’re coming with you,” Cassandra announced.

“No you aren’t. Go with the others. Get to safety - please,” she ordered.

“We will not leave you to face that thing alone!” Dorian snapped.

“Yes you will. Please - if I’m going to have a chance at this, I need to know that it’s to keep you and all these people alive. This Elder One just wants me, and I won’t let you die for me!”

“And yet you would ask us to let you die in our place?” Solas replied.

“I am. The Inquisition needs you all. I’ve done my part - the Breach is closed. The mark is no longer of great importance. It can’t do anything to stop this - but I can.”

Cullen returned, sending a small group of men out the doors to load and align the trebuchets.

“Keep the Elder One’s attention until we are above the treeline. If we are to have a chance - if you are to have a chance - let that thing hear you,” he instructed, then his eyes widened as she started running backwards, away from her companions. 

“She’s not going alone?” he thundered. 

“Try and stop her, Commander,” Cassandra replied.

Once Eliya was through the doors, she turned back to look once more at the stricken faces of her friends. She mustered the full force of her magic and threw up a roaring wall of fire, so large that it blocked the entire front of the chantry. No stray enemies would make it through to the pursue those who fled. And no one would be able to follow her. She heard the heavy doors slamming closed and Dorian’s last cry of her name before she turned to face her goal.

  
_ Come and get me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who has been reading :)


	7. Beyond the black and white

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya wakes up and tries to find her way to where the Inquistion's people have fled. Cullen leads the party in search of their fallen Herald.
> 
> "She must be alive, or she wouldn't be in so much pain. At least that was what Eliya figured. She could hear things too; the howling of wind and the slow drip of water. She struggled to her feet, eyes adjusting to make out the small cavern she seemed to be inside."

She must be alive, or she wouldn't be in so much pain. At least that was what Eliya figured. She could hear things too; the howling of wind and the slow drip of water. She struggled to her feet, eyes adjusting to make out the small cavern she seemed to be inside.

Right. Eliya didn't know how long she had been unconscious for. That meant she had three main concerns.

Firstly,  she could be trapped down here, wherever this was. She was lucky it hadn't caved in on top of her with the force of the avalanche.

Secondly, if she did make it out, she'd have to hope that Corypheus had fled with his dragon, and that his soldiers had all been destroyed. Eliya didn't think she would hold up very well in a fight just now.

Thirdly, if she did make it out and the coast was clear, she'd face the impossible task of locating her people in the snow on the side of a mountain she barely knew. Depending on how long she had been knocked out, they might even have moved on.

Yet, regardless of any of those considerations, right now there was only one thing she could do. Staff slung over her shoulder, the elf made her way down the frozen tunnel that might lead to her salvation.

\---

The weather was foul; a blizzard of snow that left her with barely a few feet of vision, and everything else blackness on all sides. The high wind whipped at her cheeks and disoriented her as she struggled forward with each step. It was so cold, cold that sank into the marrow of her bones. Her coat did little to keep her warm; it wasn't designed for this kind of weather. The only thing a person should be doing during a storm like this was staying cozy inside a warm home.

She was completely drained of mana, so she couldn't even muster some dregs of fire to keep her warm. All she had to do was focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and hope that she wasn't going around in circles.

Every step was a battle, her feet sinking deep into the snow drifts. Eliya was glad she'd gotten into the habit of wearing boots in the cold weather; if she had been barefoot when Corypheus struck she might have lost all her toes to frostbite already.

Her body was faltering; every step was agony. But she must have been making progress; the blizzard had calmed enough that she knew she was headed in the right direction at least. After what felt like an age she stumbled across the remains of a campfire. Desperately she shoved her freezing hands into the coals and let out a cry of happiness when she felt lingering traces of warmth there. It must not have been out for too long. She prayed that it was theirs, that she wasn't far from finding them.

She needed to tell them what Corypheus had said, what his plan was. With or without her and the mark, the Inquisition could stand in his way. But not if they didn't know what he sought. If she died, they might think it was over, and all would be lost.

She couldn't die. But she was losing strength fast. _Keep going_ , she told herself. _They aren't far away. They'll be glad to see you_. Gods, she hoped that they had all survived. She wanted to hear more of Varric's stories and play pranks with Sera and drink wine with Dorian. She wanted - but she had nothing left to draw on, not a scrap of energy to propel her forward. Eliya staggered sideways and onto her knees, limbs heavy with exhaustion and assaulted by the cold. _They might be camped just over the hill_ , she thought, her hands scrabbling to push herself back onto her feet.

_They'll wake up in the morning and find you right on their threshold. Imagine how hard that will be for them all. Get up, keep going, find them!\_

She couldn't.

I _f I die here alone, let the snow hide my body_ , she prayed. _Let them think that I died a hero at Haven, not in the snow on the side of a mountain. Defeated_. Her teeth chattered again, but her eyes were closing, the chill of the snow against her cheek. _Let it have meant something. Let them survive_.

She might have heard voices, or perhaps it was just the call of the Gods as they welcomed her home.

\---

“It's been hours. She isn't coming back.”

“Then we have to go and look for her! She would do the same for any of us.”

“She knew what it meant when she stayed behind. Don't tarnish her sacrifice by putting yourself at risk! Going out into that blizzard could kill you!”

“And what if she is wandering around out there, trying to find us? What if she *is* still alive, and we leave her again to die alone?”

The bickering was so circular, as always, just like they argued about everything. Only Cullen could tell those who protested were only doing so half-heartedly. Yes, the _logical_ thing to do was stay in camp. But he couldn't free his mind of her face as she had looked back at him in Haven, terrified yet powerful and determined. Exquisite in her courage. And now he thought of her, alone and possibly injured, staggering against the storm. Their saviour, their Herald, abandoned. He wouldn't allow it.

Cullen stood up suddenly, surprising those arguing by his side. “I'm going out to find her,” he announced, brooking no opposition.

“I'm coming with you,” Cassandra responded.

“As am I,” announced the Tevinter, Dorian. Cullen eyed his outfit dubiously.

“If anyone is going to freeze out there, it's you.” Cullen pointed out.

“No, it's Eliya. I'll borrow a cloak. You won't stop me from coming,” he retorted. Cullen was surprised to see this man, almost a stranger, so impassioned about finding her. His eyes scanned the rest of the circle, all of whom had known her longer. Catching his expression, Varric shook his head. “We can't all go, Commander, and some of us will be more useful than others. But we all want her back. Go get her.”

Cullen nodded curtly, and waited only as long as it took Dorian to find a cloak to spare and wrap it around himself.

The snow was deep and the wind fierce. His eyes searched desperately for the shadow of a stumbling figure, the flickering green light of her mark. The three of them had spread out, but couldn't go far without losing sight of each other in the storm.

Amongst all his feelings of uncertainty about the Herald, he had always noted with confusion the fierce devotion she elicited from the other advisors and companions. Even Leliana, so ruthless and pragmatic, had a soft spot for her. Now he suspected he knew why; she had found a way to show them all her true nature. Unwavering in her kindness, bravery and loyalty. He had been too blinded by his fear and past experiences to really understand it, but now the wall had shattered. Standing alone before the terror that faced them all, willing herself to die in their place, Cullen had finally seen the real Herald of Andraste. He hoped that she lived, for all their sake.

“It's impossible to see footprints, the snow is falling too fast,” came Cassandra’s voice over the wind. Cullen didn't want to find footprints, he wanted to find - there! A huddled mass, dark against the whiteness of the snow. He called out to the others but made it there first, his heart racing. _Please be alive_. Cullen pulled her limp form into his arms, his hands too numb to feel for a pulse. His ear descended to her lips and soon he felt it, faint and slow but different to the wind that pummelled them; she was breathing. “She's alive!” he informed the others with strangled joy.

“She won't be for long if we don't get her somewhere warm,” replied Dorian, his cynical voice tinged with desperation.

Without a thought Cullen slipped the cloak from his shoulders, gasping a little at the new bite of cold at the back of his neck, but she was more important. He wrapped her tightly in it, pulling the fur ruff up to protect her face. Then he scooped her up and told the others to lead the way. She was so light in his arms, he felt he had to hold on tightly lest the breeze would carry her away.

He kept Cassandra and Dorian within his line of sight, but his eyes were drawn to her face, searching desperately for signs of life. A gash across her jawline still trickled blood. Her skin was pale, lips tinged with blue, but the freckles dusted across her cheeks still stood out clearly. He had to fight the urge to kiss them as his stomach clenched with new realisation. _Makers breath_ , he was falling in love with her. All the time he had spent thinking of her, she had been cementing herself within his heart, and every question and protestation he had thrown up before her had been futile attempts to convince himself he couldn't, shouldn't want her. His heart ached now at the thought of a world without this small, beautiful, beguiling woman. The turmoil he felt around her wasn't simply suspicion - he was just unfamiliar with the stirrings of feelings that had long lied dormant.

The journey back to camp seemed much shorter; this time they knew their destination. Cullen was still staring hopelessly at Eliya, limp and lifeless, as though the force of his will could make her better. Cassandra was shouting for help; Cullen heard others calling out that the Herald had been found.

“Lay her down here by the fire!” came Josephine's commanding voice. Cullen did as he was told, but felt a rush of displeasure as others rushed forward and pushed him out of the way.

“Make room, Commander. I'll do what I can for her.”

Cullen looked up at Solas and thought he saw a flash of warning in the elf’s eyes. In the rush of feelings he had just experienced, Cullen had forgotten that he was not the only man who might harbour affection for the Herald. He knew she spent a great deal of time with the mysterious apostate and valued his counsel; might her respect have matured into something more? Then there was Dorian, frantically moving amongst the allied mages to find those who had healing or fire magic and enough mana left to help. From his spot near another fire Blackwall was staring fixedly at the place where the Herald lay, and Cullen would have sworn his lips were moving in silent prayer. Even Sera and the Iron Bull sat quietly with the Chargers, no spirit for laughter after seeing their champion brought so low.

Cullen left Eliya's side, wanting to be helpful in whatever way he could. There was still so much to be done, and only work would distract him from the thought that come morning, she might be gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that Cullen has sorted himself out, I'm excited to write some good angsty fluff for the next few chapters :D


	8. On her shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Haven, Skyhold and choosing the Inquisitor. Eliya Lavellan isn't a person who seeks power - but that's one of the things that makes her the right person to wield it.
> 
> "Up until now, Eliya had thought of herself as an agent, a weapon that might be used to further the goals of the Inquisition. Her advisors would point her in the direction of a problem, tell her the outcome they'd like to see, and she’d do her best to achieve it.
> 
> Now there was no direction. They were lost in the snow, their stronghold destroyed, facing an enemy they knew almost nothing about. With the advisors incapable of deciding where to go next, people were looking to her more than ever. As the Herald of Andraste, or the woman who walked out of the ruins of Haven, or just the person they had come to know over the last few months."

Eliya was unconscious for two days this time, surrounded by warming charms, healing wards and friends who sat with her and held her hand. Solas was the one tending her when she finally woke up, just after dawn on a clear day.

“ _Ma serannas, falon_. How many times have you brought me back to health now, Solas?” she croaked slowly, her mouth dry.

He smiled back at her, lifting her head and pressing a cup to her lips. “It is not the first, and I imagine it won't be the last, _falon_ ,” he replied, using the same endearment.

She closed her eyes again, gingerly stretching and moving her limbs to test whether they still worked. Though she ached throughout her entire body, she seemed to be intact - they must have found her quickly after she lost consciousness.

And who was they? Who was left? Her eyes snapped open again to find Solas watching her patiently, as though waiting for her questions.

“What happened? Is everyone alive?”

Solas nodded. “We lost soldiers, of course, and a few of the village people fell at the hands of the templars, but our escape was successful. The path led us swiftly away from the fighting and we were all well out of reach before you set off the second avalanche. It was well done, _falon_.”

“And how did I end up here with you all? I was fairly well convinced that I was dead.”

“You almost were. Commander Cullen, Seeker Cassandra and Ser Pavus went out in search of you a few hours after the avalanche. They found you unconscious in the snow drifts and brought you back to me. So I could heal you,” he added as an afterthought.

Eliya watched as his bluish-grey eyes clouded with some indiscernible emotion. She was about to say ‘thank you’ when someone nearby let out a loud gasp.

“She is awake! The Herald - oh, Eliya, you're awake!”

Josephine, looking as lovely as ever despite being somewhat more dishevelled, rushed over to hug her enthusiastically. She was the first in a long line of Eliya's friends, companions and even lower ranked members of the Inquisition who began clamouring for her attention, to thank her and praise her and ask her what had happened when she faced Corypheus’ dragon. Eliya smiled and answered politely to every inquiry, too glad to be alive to let her exhaustion distract her. Solas sat by her the whole time, saying little but watching and tending to her when he felt she might need it. When Eliya's weak arms faltered under the weight of some prize she had been handed by a well-wisher, he took that as a cue to send them all away again.

“I need to speak with the advisors, please, Solas,” Eliya asked.

“Very well. I will find them for you. Rest easy,” he replied.

Cullen had stayed away during the rush of people, but at Solas’ request he came to the tent where she lay. There was something helpless in his eyes as he looked at her, and he looked more strained and exhausted than she had yet seen him. To her surprise, Cullen knelt by her side and took one of her hands in his own.

“Thank you,” he said in a voice so low it might have been a whisper. It sounded like a prayer. Eliya wasn't certain what it was that he was thankful for, and she didn't get a chance to ask as Leliana, Cassandra and Josephine gathered around her bedside as well.

“So - about what happened in Haven.”

...

With the full story of what Corypheus had been planning, and a great many ideas about what he might do next, the advisors quickly returned to their usual state of agreeing on nothing at all. As Eliya recovered her strength, she waited for some sort of leadership that their people might follow - but there was none.

Up until now, Eliya had thought of herself as an agent, a weapon that might be used to further the goals of the Inquisition. Her advisors would point her in the direction of a problem, tell her the outcome they'd like to see, and she’d do her best to achieve it.

Now there was no direction. They were lost in the snow, their stronghold destroyed, facing an enemy they knew almost nothing about. With the advisors incapable of deciding where to go next, people were looking to her more than ever. As the Herald of Andraste, or the woman who walked out of the ruins of Haven, or just the person they had come to know over the last few months.

The conversations she had with Mother Giselle, Solas and her own subconscious all told Eliya the same thing. It was time for her to be more than a pawn in this game - if they were going to survive, she would have to lead them to it. Then, when they came to the point of choosing someone to reign as Inquisitor, Eliya would step aside gladly and continue to serve however they chose to wield her.

Eliya took them north into the mountains, searching for the place Solas had told her about. Even as the days wore on without success, and the people straggled on with little hope, she marched on with determination. She spoke little, not out of anger or sadness but just a focus on moving forward. Amongst the dizzying heights of the mountains, so cold and harsh and yet so peaceful, she heard the calling of spirits like the ones she listened to in the forest. There was so much magic there, ancient and beautiful, like echoes of the force that had raised these rocks to stand like sentinels dividing the world.

When Eliya first saw Skyhold, she thought her eyes were fooling her. It was perfect, sitting high in the peaks of the Frostbacks, and its walls sung to her with old elven magic. Had that been what she had heard calling? The people rejoiced. It was a place they could defend, a place they could make their own. This was where the Inquisition would turn from a fledgling movement into a force to shape the world.

Eliya found herself exploring as the Inquisition began the process of occupying the castle. There was a great deal of excitement and shouted orders as the logistics of what would go where fell into place. The fortress was built upon a high outcrop of rock, with steep drops on every side. The castle was a warren of dusty rooms and empty towers, retaining a trace of the grandeur they must once have held. From the battlements Eliya traced the path of the broad, frozen expanse of water that bordered Skyhold in the surrounding valley, and the small clusters of trees that huddled together on it's banks. She looked forward to wandering down there at some point - if anyone would let her.

Eventually she wandered into the main keep, and saw her four advisors standing together in deep conversation. She smiled to herself - they were all such intimidating figures. She must look ridiculous standing next to them, a tiny blonde elf wearing dirty brown clothes that had once belonged to someone else. Cassandra spotted her lurking, and gestured for her to come over - but the others dispersed as she did.

 _Not cool enough for them,_ she joked in her head.

There were people everywhere, certainly more people than they had arrived with. Cassandra told her that people were arriving daily, seeking out Skyhold like some kind of pilgrimage. People had heard about the Inquisition, people had heard about her - which meant that Corypheus had likely heard too. He wanted her dead - because of the mark on her hand that she was never meant to have.

“The anchor has power - but it’s not why you’re still standing here,” Cassandra said, leading Eliya towards the steps that climbed to the main hall. “Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creatures rival because of what _you_ did - and we know it. All of us.”

For all that she considered Cassandra a friend, this was easily the most effusive praise she had ever heard from the Seeker. It all felt very - significant. That’s when she spotted Leliana standing at the top of the stairs, holding - well, a bloody big sword. She threw them both a puzzled look - what exactly was going on?

“The Inquisition needs a leader. The one who has already been leading it. You”

People were crowding around below, staring up at her. Eliya’s head began to spin. Did they really mean to make her the Inquisitor? She had no qualification to hold such a title - no right to that kind of power. True, she had forged the path forward some of the way so far, but that was only out of necessity. How could they think that a Dalish mage was the best person to lead, to represent their cause to the world?

“It’s unanimous? You all have that much confidence in me?” she asked incredulously.

“All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow,” Cassandra replied.

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I will not lie. Handing this power to anyone is troubling. But I have to believe this is meant to be. Friend - I have seen that the decision you make are always with a better world in mind. You value the lives of all people, and you do not take take responsibility lightly. I know you didn’t ask for this power - but that is what makes you the best person to wield it. There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve - how you will lead - that must be yours to decide.”

Eliya had never wielded a sword like the one before her. The hilt was like a twisting serpent, the blade easily as long as most of her body. Tentatively she reached out and took hold of it. It was heavy, and the sunlight glinted off the flawless steel. Her arms shook, but she held the blade steady. Then she looked up to meet Cassandra and Leliana’s eyes.

“I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I’m an elf standing for Thedas - the Inquisition is for all,” Eliya proclaimed, trying to mask the tremor in her voice. The gathered crowd began to cheer as Commander Cullen shouted a rallying cry. Josephine looked beside herself with excitement. She saw Solas, and he smiled back at her, encouraging. So did Dorian, Vivienne - Iron Bull and Sera were shouting expletive-filled praises. Could this be real? Could she really do this? Eliya took a deep breath and searched inside herself. Below the drumming tattoo of her fear and hesitation, she found it - a bedrock of certainty. When she had found out the power that the mark held, she had sworn to do whatever she must to help. That was still true.   
  
Eliya thrust the sword up into the sky. The Inquisition had their leader. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma serannas falon means my thanks, friend. I'm trying to make sure I weave enough elven-ness into Eliya - she's a character who is proud of her people and her heritage, but she never really fit in with her clan. Her Keeper Deshanna was the one she loved, the rest of the clan were sort of like people that you love because they are family, not because you are particularly close. The Inquisition is her chance to build a family of people that she chooses, but it's important that she doesn't lose her roots amongst all that. Any thoughts on plot devices I might use to build that balance would be fab. I plan to have her talk to Cullen about her clan a little way down the track.


	9. The memory of something lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's growing feelings for Eliya remind him of the other woman he once loved - Solona Amell. There are things about his past he needs to tell their new Inquisitor.
> 
> "Cullen seemed to have a habit of falling for the wrong people. Not that he'd felt this way about many women in the past. Only one came to mind, in fact. Solona Amell. He'd dreamed about her as well - before and after everything that happened. But it had been a long time since he thought of her. Her memory had been tainted, tied up with too much pain and evil."

The journey through the mountains had been long and full of opportunities for contemplation - which was why Cullen was glad to have his hands more than full and his mind occupied over the first few days at Skyhold. He had established a temporary workstation near the stairway in the keep, so that he could keep an eye on the progress of tidying the run-down fortress and making it inhabitable. He was sending scouting parties out to report on the surrounding area, and was eager to get an armoury established at once so they could begin to replenish their depleted equipment.

For once, Eliya didn’t manage to sneak up on him - he was shaking his head as he dismissed one of his men and spotted her approaching. Aside from when she met with the advisors as a group they had barely spoken over the last fortnight, though Cullen’s head had been so full of thoughts of her it didn’t feel that way. There were so many things he wanted to say - but she wouldn’t be looking for a personal conversation. No, surely she was just after an update on the situation.

He panicked slightly as she greeted him, and forgot to acknowledge her in return - instead launching straight into discussing why they hadn’t been prepared for the attack on Haven. She looked sad - it made him rub the back of his neck nervously. _Makers Breath_ , he hadn’t considered that it might not be something she wanted to talk about - he stopped short, mid sentence. To his surprise, she laughed.

“Do you ever sleep?” Her lips were quirked to one side in a wry smile and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Cullen's heart was hammering relentlessly - surely even she could hear it, echoing underneath the metal of his armour. He switched his focus to the table of plans and lists and reports - even the mass of information was less intimidating than her

“If Corypheus attacks again we may not be able to withdraw. I wouldn't want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway. Guard rotations established. We should have everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.”

“How many were lost?” She was more subdued now - he felt guilty for burdening her with his stress.

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but it has improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.”

She looked at the ground, brow furrowed. “Everyone has so much faith in me. I hope I'm ready.”

Despite himself, Cullen stepped in closer, wanting to comfort her but not really knowing how.

“You won't have to carry the Inquisition alone - although it must feel like it. We needed a leader, and you have proven yourself.”

He was glad to see the return of her small smile, and it was reflected on his own face as she thanked him. How had he never noticed how good his name sounded on her lips before?

“Our escape from Haven - it was close. I’m relieved that you… that so many made it out,” she told him.

“As am I,” he replied, his mind racing with thoughts of how he might demonstrate his joy that she had survived. She was standing so close - how would she react if he pulled her into his arms? Would she let him kiss her? Of course, she had no reason to think anything had changed between them - how could she know what he felt? He couldn’t explain it. She would have no idea in that moment that even with a scout standing less than a foot away, he couldn’t stop wondering what her lips would feel like against his own.

Then Eliya turned to walk away, and Cullen realised he was just standing there silent like a fool. “You stayed behind,” he spoke to her retreating back, and she paused. “You could have… I will not allow the events of Haven to happen again. You have my word,” he vowed.

“I have faith in you,” she replied gently. “Cullen, you know we’re heading out to Crestwood with Hawke in a few days. I’m sure there is a lot to do here but please, tell me you’ll look after yourself. Take a break every now and then. I’m going to need my Commander at his best for everything that is to come.”

Cullen nodded and replied, “I will try.”

\---

It was once Eliys left for Crestwood that she started appearing in his dreams. For the most part they were the same nightmares as ever- demons, abominations, Meredith screaming orders and Cullen being forced to carry them out.  The worst ones were when he felt a sick urge that he _wanted_ to carry them out.

Then he would be standing back in the chantry at Haven, watching as she turned to look back at them all. Her hair was blowing in the rising wind and smoke was rising from her hands. He saw the last gleam of sadness in her eyes before she shut it out completely, replaced by cold and unyielding focus. He felt the sudden rush of warmth and phenomenal power as she cast her fire wall, fighting the need to step back in favour of just a moment more of knowing that she lived. He tried to call out but found his voice wasn't working, and instead it was Dorian's that sounded, just shouting her name, whether to bring her back or say farewell, he didn't know. That was when Cullen would wake up, sweating, heart full of dread so that he had to whisper and remind himself, she was alive, she was alive. Then again, he couldn’t know that for sure - her expeditions on Inquisition business were unlikely to get any less dangerous. He knew he wouldn’t rest easy until she was back in the castle again.

Cullen seemed to have a habit of falling for the wrong people. Not that he'd felt this way about many women in the past. Only one came to mind, in fact. Solona Amell. He'd dreamed about her as well - before and after everything that happened. But it had been a long time since he thought of her. Her memory had been tainted, tied up with too much pain and evil.

Solona had been an apprentice in the Fereldan Circle when he was first stationed there. Cullen remembered being awestruck when he first saw her, his heart thundering and stomach dropping. Physically, she had been very different to Eliya; Solona was tall and broad shouldered where Eliya was short and slight, pear shaped with long legs. Solona’s hair had been waist length and raven-black, her eyes warm and brown.  She was around his age, and they had formed something akin to a friendship, though Cullen stammered and blushed in her presence. 

He started volunteering for the very long and dull guard assignments in the tower library, knowing that she would likely be there and he could look at her, sometimes even talk to her if she was feeling chatty. She had a group of dedicated friends, but she liked to be alone a lot of the time, and was deeply studious. He had been present at her Harrowing, terrified at the thought of having to cut her down - but she had done brilliantly, and he was so proud even though he had no right to feel such a thing.

Then the news came of the defeat at Ostagar, the death of King Cailan and the betrayal of the Grey Wardens. Uldred had started his whisperings and unease spread through the tower.

When the blood mages and abominations rose, Solona and her friends stood with the templars. He remembered the way she held his hand after they brought down a rage demon together. What her lips had felt like, pressed against his for the briefest, sweetest moment as they hid together in a chamber while the abominations pounded at the door.\

And he remembered how the light left her eyes as they were overpowered, and she died stretched out on the stone floor as he and the other templars were dragged away.

Uldred and his demons had used her against him in that prison, tormenting him with Solona’s face, taunting him with lust and fear and envy. It was what drove him into despising mages to begin with. Solona may have been a mage herself - but it was mages who took her from him. He wanted them all dead, wanted them all to suffer. But the Hero of Fereldan liberated the Circle, letting the surviving mages live, and Cullen was left to simmer in his rage. Meredith had simply fanned the flames of an already burning fire with all that they did in Kirkwall.

And the lyrium - that was part of it too. Deprived of his source while trapped in that cage, Cullen had first felt the sting of withdrawal and the insanity that can accompany it. Surrounded by magic and taunted by demons, the lyrium left inside him sang, utter torment when he could not get enough to use his powers nor escape that which triggered it. Once he was free, that association remained - he couldn't feel his senses prickling from magic without also remembering the agony of his torture. Magic set his teeth on edge, made him tense, angry - further fuelling his prejudice. Another item to tick off in the long list of reasons he had ended up where he did. Fortunately, he had enough sense left to figure out that Meredith was crossing his blurred lines of right and wrong. Even if it was too late.

All that, and still Cullen found himself in love with a mage. The cruel irony of the heart. But he wouldn't change it - her magic was a part of who she was, and how could he claim to love her if he wanted to change that?

Cullen knew that whatever he had felt for Solona, it paled in comparison to the tenderness and desire that now burned within him. He didn’t know why he had been so blind to it before now - perhaps if he had been less of a complete ass to Eliya, he might have a chance. Of course, there were always many reasons why that would never be possible. Plus a recent addition - she was no longer _just_ a mage, an elf, the ‘Herald of Andraste’. Now she was the Inquisitor. If things had been complicated before, now they were impossible. And where previously he had kept certain things about himself private, believing it wasn't essential for her to know, he could no longer justify his excuses.  
  
She needed to know all of what he had done in Kirkwall. She needed to know that he had stopped taking lyrium. He would have to tell her, so then she could make an informed decision about whether to let him remain as Commander, or advisor. She might not want him there at all. If she hated him, it was nothing to how he hated himself. And if she hated him, it might be just the slightest bit easier for him to let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing DAO as a female Cousland so I'm not 100% certain exactly how things go for the Amell character. However I figure that if Solona wasn't recruited as a Warden she'd have been in the tower when things went bad and she was meant to be very powerful and clever - so hopefully not tempted by blood magic herself. Also toying with the effects of lyrium and some of Cullen's triggers.


	10. What I said and what was left unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen explains a few things to Eliya about his past. Eliya's response takes him by surprise.
> 
> "For his part, Cullen thought the time between his words and when she finally responded must have lasted a lifetime. There was no sign of emotion on her face as she studied his, just a detached curiosity. He was torn between an appreciation for the thought and consideration she put into every interaction, and a deep frustration at her prolonging his anxiety.
> 
> Finally she tilted her head to the side a little, and nodded. "Yes, I know.""

Eliya returned from Crestwood thinking she’d never be properly dry again in her life. At least it hadn’t smelled quite as bad as the Fallow Mire - but she was certainly starting to miss the warmer weather of the Free Marches. Skyhold was cold but clear, and looking much better for a few weeks of work. People were settling in, finding their places. She caught up with each member of her inner circle at the spaces they had carved out for themselves, spent some time in the tavern, tried to get used to the fact that not only did she have ‘rooms’, they were just about the biggest living quarters imaginable.

“Can I get a few people to stay in there with me? It’s so big and empty, it seems like a waste!” she pleaded with Josephine.

“Nonsense - you are the Inquisitor, those rooms are fitting for your rank.”

“Yes, but you’re the Ambassador and your rooms are nowhere near as big. Leliana is stuck up in a tower with her ravens. Cullen is - come to think of it, I haven’t seen where Cullen’s office is yet. But I’ll bet it isn’t as big as mine! I’m used to sleeping on a bedroll or in a tent, I don’t need all the fussy stuff.”

“Commander Cullen has established himself across the newly repaired bridge. And believe me - you’ll thank me for ensuring you have your own personal space when things get even busier down the track,” Josephine dismissed her with a friendly wave over the clipboard. Eliya sighed. She was sure Dorian and Sera would be happy to have sleep-overs with her. Until then - she supposed she ought to go and visit Cullen. She found his office easily, with him inside sitting at an enormous desk already littered with scrolls. He seemed to brace himself when he saw it was her entering - that was odd. She could have sworn things were good between them - certainly cordial at least. She had meant what she said about a fresh start. Or maybe he was just nervous because she had told him to look after himself - and judging by his sharp cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes, he had not being doing that at all.

“Is everything alright, Commander?” she asked cautiously.

“As leader of the Inquisition, you..,” he stopped with a sigh, rubbing his temple. “There is something I must tell you.”

“Whatever it is, I'm willing to listen,” Eliya replied. She noticed that he had a carved wooden box open before him - was that where he stored his lyrium? Was he having trouble with the Inquisition's supply of lyrium?

“Right. Thank you.” Cullen saw where she was looking and frowned again, rapping his knuckles against the edge of his desk. “I'm unsure of how much you know about why templars take lyrium. Lyrium grants templars out abilities, but it controls us as well. Those who are cut off suffer - some go mad, others die.”

He took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the glowing glass vial before him.

“We have secured a reliable source for the templars here. But I … no longer take it.”

Eliya quirked her head to one side, puzzled. Hadn't he just said that being cut off from lyrium could kill a person? Why would he choose that?

“You stopped?” she asked with uncertainty, and he looked up to meet her gaze. There was certainly something pained in his expression as he nodded.

“When I joined the Inquisition. It's been months now.”

“I'm sorry Commander, I don't understand. Why are you doing this?” Eliya didn't want to sound frustrated, but it didn't make any sense.

“After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn't… I will not be bound to the order, or that life any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I have asked Cassandra to… watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.”

Eliya stepped forward, bracing her hands against the desk between them, leaning in to examine his face. “Are you in pain?” she asked softly.

His brow furrowed, but he didn’t look away. “I can endure it,” he replied.

Eliya considered it. It sounded like lyrium was a leash, something that gave power but at a price. Cullen had seen that price, what it cost to be a templar, fought the battle between duty and honour. He said he would step aside if it got too much - but what would ‘too much’ look like? She hated to think of him twisted and tormented. There was still so much good inside him. Despite her fears for his health, she also knew that taking lyrium took its toll over time - most templars lived quite short lives, and there were tales of those who began to lose their minds towards the end. If it was a choice between pain now or later, it was always better to get things out of the way. And if not taking lyrium was Cullen's way of unshackling himself from the past, she couldn't be anything but supportive of such a goal.

“No man should be a slave to anything, Cullen. Thank you for telling me. I respect what you are doing,” she told him earnestly. He looked gratified by her support.

“Thank you Inquisitor. The Inquisitions army must always take priority. Should anything happen… I will defer to Cassandra’s judgement.”

“I understand, and I appreciate your dedication. Do remember that your health is important to me. I can only imagine how difficult this must be and I will support you however I can. If you need anything, please ask,” she beseeched him.

"Actually Inquisitor - there is something I have to ask you." Cullen replied. She heard a strain in his voice that told her he was nervous, maybe even a little scared. What could be more difficult to bring up than that which he had already told her?

  
"Yes, Commander?"   
  
"I wondered if you know - very much about what happened when I was a templar in Kirkwall. Beyond what we have spoken about."   
  
She took a few steps towards him around the desk, studying his face, noting the fear in his eyes. What was he more afraid of - that she already knew, and hated him for it, or that she didn't know, and he would have to explain?   
  
For his part, Cullen thought the time between his words and when she finally responded must have lasted a lifetime. There was no sign of emotion on her face as she studied his, just a detached curiosity. He was torn between an appreciation for the thought and consideration she put into every interaction, and a deep frustration at her prolonging his anxiety.   
  
Finally she tilted her head to the side a little, and nodded. "Yes, I know."   
  
"Oh - ah. Good, okay. Can I ask - how you heard about it? What it is that you know?" Cullen asked, thrown by her nonchalance.   
  
"I've always liked to read. When I had the chance, I got a copy of 'Tale of the Champion' - I was a big fan of Varric's even before I met him," she responded gently.   
  
That meant she knew everything - what he had said, what he had done - what he hadn't done. And yet she was standing before him without a trace of anger, but rather a painfully apparent sense of concern for his own internal struggles.   
  
"Forgive me, but why -"   
  
"Why haven't I asked you about it before? Why aren't I furious with you? Why haven't  I used it against you in our disagreements?" She cut him off, articulating all of his jumbled questions concisely.   
  
"There's a lot to say, and at the same time a very simple explanation. I'll give you both, in a fashion. I knew who you were - and all about Kirkwall - just a few hours after we were introduced. I won't pretend it wasn't a shock, to meet someone straight of the pages of a book - even a book about true events. But I've never had to live in a Circle, never been forced to put up with templars, never suffered in that way like a human mage might have. And I think that made it easier to push aside whatever anger I might have felt towards you, at least in the beginning, in the name of getting things done.   
  
Don't mistake me, Cullen - I believe that the way the Circle treats mages is abhorrent. To imprison people out of the fear of what they might one day do - that's not just. It's why I'll do what I can, with the power that I've been given, to change things.   
  
But you're just one man, and you're a product of the culture that surrounds you. I spoke to Varric about you, and about Kirkwall. He told me that whatever your faults were, you were a man full of remorse doing your best to make up for past mistakes. That's all I needed to know.   
  
See, Commander, I might be lucky in some ways to be an elven mage, instead of a human one. But I'm still an elf. And a mage. Every interaction I've ever had outside of my clan has been tainted by fear and hatred. People look at the marks on my face, the shape of my ears, the power I wield - and that's enough for them to make their minds up about me. Savage. Inferior. Dangerous. I've seen it all, in their eyes when they talk to me. I know that when they pulled me out of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, there were lots of people who wanted to kill me there and then. Maybe you were one of them.   
  
But what matters is that Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, yourself - you gave me a chance to defend myself, to prove myself. That's all a person can ask for. I'd hope that by now, you'd see me as more than just a mage and an elf, the one tied to these events that threw the world into chaos. I'd hope that by now, I've shown you who I really am. And as for me, whatever you were in Kirkwall, I can only see the person standing before me. I know you are a good man. I trust you, I'm proud to fight beside you and to serve our mutual cause."   
  
He couldn't quite believe her words; his mind stirred with a range of thoughts and emotions but what came most clearly to the fore was the part of him filled with rage and self-hatred. He wanted her to be angry with him; to punish him as he felt he deserved to be. Her desire to trust people was wilful naivete; it would get her killed.   
  
"There are some who would say your faith in people is foolish - even dangerous," he said in a low voice. To his surprise, she laughed softly.   
  
"More than a few, I don't doubt. Still, know that while I believe in second chances, my grace isn't infinite. I am all for giving people an opportunity to prove themselves, but a person who fails by my standards will not escape punishment. But - I cannot think it wrong to see the best in people, or to give a person room to reflect their real character. A judgement made on first impressions alone is too shallow in a world of prejudice. Look at Dorian, he's a Tevinter mage. The Iron Bull is a Qunari mercenary and spy. Sera is a city elf who heads up a criminal network. Cole is a spirit living as a person. None of us exactly read as the most trustworthy lot. And yet, I do trust every one of our companions with my life. Remember, Commander: whatever we were before, now we are the Inquisition."   
  
In her words, as well as her manner, he felt the same righteousness mixed with humility as the day she had accepted the position of Inquisitor. Like the powerful magic that lay under the her calm and reasonable persona, he could see the strength of her character clearly in that moment, with no shyness or uncertainty to hide it.   
  
"It's in moments like this that I recognise just how fortunate we are, Inquisitor, that whether by coincidence or divine purpose it was you who came to have that mark."   
  
She smiled and blushed a little.   
  
"Thank you, Commander, but I'd be nothing without the support of yourself and the rest of our friends."   
  
Cullen shook his head, refusing to let her brush off his compliment. "I mean it when I say that you truly are the best of us."   
  
She bowed her head slightly in acknowledgement, and turned to leave, but hesitated.   
  
"Actually, Commander, now there's two things _I_ need to ask you." She closed the distance between them so they were only an arm's length apart. Cullen could feel his heart start to beat a little faster.

“First - Working to overcome prejudice is a choice. I know that whatever you think of me, you still fear and distrust magic. I have to ask you to work on that. Whatever your misgivings, start to consider the unfairness and complexities of a system that punishes mages simply for being what they were born to be. Recognise the part you played in hurting innocent people, discard whatever reasons you might have had for justifying it, and own up to the facts. Not to punish yourself - it's not about that - but so that you can question the way you react to people and situations in the future. It's a slow process, but that's what helps people to really change. Redemption isn't achieved by just asking for forgiveness - you've got to try to live in a way that's better than your past.  
  
"Secondly, I have to admit that you've been something of a project of mine. I don't know if you'd noticed but since we first met in Haven, I've gone out of my way to seek out your company; to ask your opinions and get to know you better, beyond your capacity as an advisor and Commander. I'm sure we can both recognise that we have some rather significant differences in opinion. And I'm glad to have reached a point where we know a little more of what we think of each other. But in my efforts towards you I admit to having an - ulterior motive, as it were."   
  
Cullen felt a strange tugging sensation somewhere in his stomach as he stuttered out, "Oh, really?"   
  
Eliya smiled broadly. She had a beautiful smile that lit up every feature on her face, like the sun. He was finding it difficult to look her in the eye, but also couldn't bear to look away.   
  
"Yes, Commander. See, while I'm proud of the progress we've made in bridging the divide between an ex-templar and an elven mage - I'd like to go a step further. I hoped we might be friends."   
  
Now it was Cullen's turn to laugh. "Yes, Inquisitor, I think we can manage that."   
  
"Good. Then I expect you to start calling me Eliya. Have a good day, Commander Cullen."   
  
Cullen watched her leave, torn between being grateful that she hadn't asked for something more, and a sincere wish that she had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a bunch of stuff lined up after this that is pretty much written - so that is exciting! Lots of original dialogue mixed in with canon events. Being absolutely up to my ears in Cullen fanfiction I know what it's like to read about the same (essentially) two people falling in love over and over again, but I'd really super duper appreciate any comments you guys might have on my writing :)


	11. Closer and more lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An afternoon of chess and conversation. 
> 
> "“It's not my place to ask, but I'm curious regardless. Are you in love with the Inquisitor, Dorian?” he blurted. Dorian met his gaze without flinching.
> 
> “Yes. Entirely and desperately in love with her, Commander.”
> 
> Cullen's stomach dropped - he had suspected, but to have it confirmed still hurt.
> 
> “Oh - I see.”
> 
> “In truth I think the lovely Eliya Lavellan is my soulmate. Which, of course, makes the situation even more tragic,” Dorian continued."

In an interesting turn of events, one afternoon Cullen found himself playing chess with Dorian. Despite having vastly different temperaments and personalities, the two men got on quite well. He respected the Tevinters intelligence, if not his fashion sense. He also knew that they shared a mutual, if unspoken, affection for their Inquisitor. While she was deliberate in making an effort to spend time with all of her inner circle, Dorian had quickly become her closest friend. Cullen felt a twinge of jealousy at their easy intimacy, but couldn't fault either of them for their bond - and he certainly preferred her spending time with Dorian than Solas.

As the pair chatted idly that afternoon, Cullen found a question lurking constantly behind his lips. There came a point where Dorian tired of his distraction, and asked him directly - “Out with it Commander. Whatever your question, just ask.”

Cullen flushed, and tried to direct his focus back to their game - he was just a few moves off winning. How could he state his question tactfully?

“It's not my place to ask, but I'm curious regardless. Are you in love with the Inquisitor, Dorian?” he blurted. Dorian met his gaze without flinching.

“Yes. Entirely and desperately in love with her, Commander.”

Cullen's stomach dropped - he had suspected, but to have it confirmed still hurt.

“Oh - I see.”

“In truth I think the lovely Eliya Lavellan is my soulmate. Which, of course, makes the situation even more tragic,” Dorian continued.

“Tragic?” Cullen wondered - was there some obstacle that would keep the two apart?

“Very much so. Despite our mutual love the Inquisitor and I face the rather unfortunate hurdle that I'm only attracted to men, as it were. And I'm sure you have noticed that she is not a man - rather a very attractive woman.”

Cullen almost laughed, though he felt a little cross at the way the Tevinter had baited him. This had been another suspicion Cullen had felt in regards to Dorian, and he found himself honestly relieved that he was not so off in his estimations.

“I can imagine that would pose a challenge, yes,” he chuckled. Dorian raised his eyebrows and leaned forward.

“Now, Commander, as handsome as I know I am, I suspect you don't share my inclinations. Which makes me wonder about the motivation for your question - and I think perhaps it was because _you_ are also very much enamoured with our illustrious Herald?”

“I - uh - well… yes, I suppose that's a fairly accurate summation.” Cullen confirmed in a small voice. Dorian leaned back again in his chair, a smug smile on his face.

“Of course you are. Tell me, do you intend to let her know about these feelings of yours?”

Cullen's heart hammered at the thought. “No - I couldn't. She and I have to work together, it wouldn't be professional. I would never wish to make her uncomfortable.”

“That answer is assuming she's not just as  interested in you, Commander.” Dorian replied. “Perhaps I could ask her how she feels, and let you know? Or I could tell her how you feel, and see what she thinks?”

Despite the ever present intonation of sarcasm in the mage's voice, Cullen knew he was offering in earnest. But still he shook his head, too full of fear and embarrassment at the thought of his inevitable rejection.

“No, please, don't say anything. I wouldn't - please, just forget I even mentioned it. I know she doesn't see me that way and I - no. It's better left unsaid.”

“If you're so certain of that, Cullen, why ask me about her in the first place?”

Cullen looked back at Dorian miserably. The man was too sharp, and he was floundering in comparison. “I just... want her to be happy.”

“Then why deny her the opportunity to be happy _with_ you?”

“I'm not the right kind of man for her.”

“Strong, handsome, unattached, and in your own words - ‘just wants her to be happy’. I'm not seeing the problem.”

“You wouldn't,” Cullen replied curtly, but then sighed. “Lets just move on, shall we?”

“Fine. But as a final word, let me offer a warning, Commander. You aren't the only one harbouring these kinds of feelings for her. Others may be less reserved in declaring their intentions. Wait too long, and you may miss your opportunity.”

They shared a moment of gloomy silence as Cullen imagined what it would be like to watch her fall in love with someone else. It was selfish to think none of them deserved her when he didn't either.

“Shall we get back to our game?” he asked finally, waiting on Dorian for the next move.

“Oh yes! Another hopeless cause for you, I'm afraid. Though I imagine you are used to disappointment!” Dorian's wit returned.

“Gloat all you like, I have this one.”

“Are you _sassing_ me, Commander? And here I didn't think you had it in you.”

Cullen shook his head and started to mutter ‘why do I even bother’ when he noticed the Inquisitor herself approaching. How long had she been nearby - did she hear their conversation? He jumped up awkwardly to greet her, eliciting a sarcastic response from Dorian.

“Leaving are you? Does this mean I win?”

Cullen glanced back at him, panicked. Dorian gave a small shake of his head as reassurance that she couldn't have overheard them.

“You two playing nice?” the Inquisitor asked playfully.

“I’m always nice,” Dorian responded, turning back to Cullen. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You'll feel much better.”

“Really? Because I just won, and I feel fine,” Cullen replied, laughing. Dorian looked cross at being shown up.

“Don't get smug, Commander, there will be no living with you.” He got up to leave, mouthing ‘talk to her!’ over the Inquisitor’s shoulder as he passed.

“I ah - should get back to my duties. Unless you would care for a game?”

She smiled and pulled out Dorian's chair to take his place. “Prepare the board, Commander! Though I have to warn you, I've never played before - can you show me the basics?”

“Oh - of course!” Cullen started by explaining each of the individual pieces and their functions, before outlining the basic strategy and rules of the game. She listened intently, chewing the inside of her lip and occasionally repeating what he had said for confirmation, wide green eyes meeting his for reassurance. He was comfortable, this was a topic he knew well and didn't have to worry about tripping up on.

“Do you think you're ready to have a try?” he asked eventually.

“I'll do my best!”

“Your move then, Inquisitor.”

“So when did you learn to play, Commander?” Eliya asked as she moved a pawn forwards. Cullen began to tell the story of playing with his sister Mia as a child, and how hard he and Branson had tried to beat her. That lead them into a conversation about his family, and she asked a great number of questions about his childhood and siblings. He enjoyed talking about these things, and felt his usual nerves and awkwardness fading away. This was something he was good at.

“You know, this might be the longest we've gone without talking about the Inquisition, or related matters,” Cullen observed later.

“We should spend more time together,” came her casual reply as she narrowed her eyes down at the board, trying to figure out her next move. Cullen felt his stomach clench again at such a nonchalant remark that suggested she enjoyed his company.

“I… I would like that,” he stammered in response, and she looked up at him again with a sweet smile. _Makers breath_.

“Me too.”

“You said that,” he reminded her, to which she just laughed and folded her arms to await his next move.

For all that she put a lot of thought into each move, she wasn't very good at the game. She rarely thought several moves ahead and sometimes didn't consider the impact that moving one piece would have on another. Once or twice she had scanned his face when on the verge of making a very poor decision, and he gave her the mercy of a small head shake to indicate that it would not be wise. She'd smile sheepishly and go back to considering other options. Inevitably, though, Cullen ended up in a position where he was clearly going to win, and took it.

“I believe the game is mine,” he told her gently.

She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “You're not going to let me win, as it's my first game?”

“I'm afraid, Inquisitor, that even if I tried to do so I would still have won,” he replied playfully.

“Fair point! Well, you'll just have to keep teaching me.”

“It'd be my pleasure.”

“You're good at that, I've noticed. Teaching, I mean. I see you with the soldiers - you give helpful advice, you discipline fairly, and you correct their mistakes without making them ashamed. It's no wonder they respect you so much.”

Cullen blushed, as much at her compliment as at the thought that she had spent enough time observing him to notice such things.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. Though I wouldn't be surprised if my men were secretly planning an uprising, tired of my poor temper.”

“You can be a bit grumpy,” Eliya conceded, “but they're too in awe of you to mind. Do you know what people call you?”

Cullen shook his head no, internally praying that it wasn't anything embarrassing.

“Cullen Rutherford, The Lion of Honnleath.” she told him, with an air of amusement. _Well, that's not so bad_.

“I'd imagine that's because of my helm - it's shaped like a lions head, you know.” he replied.

“Or the fact that your ruff looks like a lions mane. Or maybe because you are so fierce and formidable,” she teased. “But you know, I have an easy solution if I ever hear any of our people getting ahead of themselves and scaring the new recruits into being terrified of you. I just tell them you might seem like a lion, but deep down you're really just a big kitten.”

Again, Cullen blushed. This was by far the best interaction he'd ever had with her - she was so friendly and open. By the maker, he was falling more in love with her by the second, even when she teased him.

“You know, I take offence to that as a Fereldan. I'm much more of a dog person.”

“Oh, of course. Well then, how about a mabari? ‘War hound’ sounds too aggressive. Are mabaris gentle, under all that tooth and muscle?”

“Like giant babies. We had one when I was growing up - she was a beautiful dog.” Cullen remembered fondly.

“You'll have to tell me more about her. Another time, perhaps.”  
  
Cullen remembered all the tasks he had to do that afternoon and nodded regretfully. If only they were two entirely different people, who could waste away the afternoon talking and laughing. “I look forward to it, Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chess scene is one of my favourites and there is so much room for more conversation to have happened!


	12. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya needs Dorian's advice about several distracting circumstances.
> 
> "How does anyone get any work done around you people?" Eliya grumbled, dropping down into the chair opposite Dorian.
> 
> He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Meaning?"
> 
> "Ugh. You're all so damn pretty."

"How does anyone get any work done around you people?" Eliya grumbled, dropping down into the chair opposite Dorian.   
  
He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Meaning?"   
  
"Ugh. You're all so damn pretty."   
  
"Well, it's true that I am, but I don't see what the problem is."   
  
"It's distracting! Josephine has her accent and Cass has those amazing cheekbones. Varric has his chest hair out all the time, Blackwall is a giant manly bear. Solas walks the line between being subtle and overt with his innuendo so you can't tell if he is flirting or just saying something you don't understand and don't even get me started on Cullen!"   
  
"Oh, please do start, this is very entertaining."   
  
"It's that scar on his lip - and his little smirk of a smile. He was just talking to me about something and I got so distracted looking at his ridiculous handsome face that I realized I had no idea what he was saying. Then he asked me a question and I just nodded and he looked at me like I was a total idiot! So I had to make up some excuse to run away and come vent to you."   
  
"Haven't you ever had to deal with this before, Lavellan?"   
  
"Not really. I never really saw any of my clan that way and the only people I've been - involved with - in the past, well, it only took a few days and I never saw them again afterwards. Here I have to see these people basically every day! Plus, I've flirted with Cullen a few times and he's definitely not interested, he always seems so uncomfortable. So now I've made that even more awkward than it would have been if I was just crushing on him in secret."   
  
"Sounds like this is more specifically about the Commander than any of the others you mentioned,  _ amatus _ ."   
  
Eliya blushed. "He's just so handsome! And he's got that mix of being sort of overly polite most of the time but then he has these little outbursts of anger, like pent up frustration - gods, I'm sorry, it sounds weird that I find that sexy."   
  
Dorian chuckled. "Not at all. Like he's the type to open a door for you and call you 'my lady', but then push you up against it and kiss you in a fit of passion."   
  
Eliya nodded fervently. “Exactly.”

“Have you considered casually mentioning to the Commander that you'd very much like to know what's underneath all that armour?”

Eliya slapped him lightly on the arm. “Way to give me a visual for the rest of the day, Dorian. He'd probably die of shock, or choke from trying to stutter out a polite way to say ‘not interested.’ No, at this point I'm resigned to being sexually frustrated and alone. I'm going to go have some lunch - when all else fails, food can make things better,” she sighed, rising again from her chair.

\----

Early in the morning a few days later, Eliya sought out Dorian in his little nook again. 

“There you are! I went to your room but you were already up, what's wrong with you? You never wake up this early,” she whispered dramatically.

“I couldn't sleep, I was just so excited to greet the new day,” Dorian replied in a droll voice. “And why are you whispering?”

“I need to talk to you - but not here!”

“Why not?” Dorian raised his eyebrows.

Eliya gestured both upwards and down, indicating the places where Leliana and Solas respectively were often to be found. 

“I don't want anyone to overhear!” she whispered again urgently. 

Dorian rolled his eyes and unfolded himself from the winged chair. Eliya led him down the stairs and through the Rotunda where Solas slumbered, all the way out onto a deserted stretch of the battlements.

“ _ Fasta vass _ woman, it is cold out here. What was so secret you couldn't tell me somewhere inside?”

“I went for a walk with Solas last night,” Eliya announced, and Dorian rolled his eyes at her. “Sorry, that doesn't make sense - I thought I was having a normal walk with Solas. Then all of a sudden, we were in Haven. He was talking to me in the fade while I slept,” she hissed. 

Eliya could tell she had succeeded in surprising the mage. “Oh! And what did you talk about in this little - mind-adventure? Was it even really Solas, or did you just imagine it?”

“He told me things that I couldn't know, so I think it was real - or at least, whatever is ‘real’ when you talk about wandering the Fade with apostate elves.” Eliya cursed a little in confusion, shaking her head. “It was  _ so  _ bizarre Dorian, I'm telling you.”

“What did he say that you wouldn't have known?”

“He was talking about what happened after the conclave, before I woke up the first time. About me being chained and him caring for me and him trying to seal the breach with his own magic. Then he said that when he saw me still the rift with my mark,  _ he felt the whole world change, _ ” Eliya replied, putting a lot of emphasis on the last sentence. Dorian understood her instantly and groaned.

“I see. And he's said things like this to you before?”

“I think so - I mean, like I said the other day, it's hard to tell! I don't even know if he  _ meant  _ it as something romantic or anything like that. But I do get that feeling from him sometimes. The way he looks at me can get… intense. It definitely felt like there was something more behind his words, but... I told him he was a good friend, and he said that I ‘throw him off’ even in the Fade. That's when I realised it wasn't real like - physical real - and he smirked at me and told me to wake up.”

Eliya was practically squirming, the memory made her so uncertain. 

“Do you  _ want  _ him to mean it that way? Are you interested in Solas?”

Eliya blushed. “Well, I - oh  _ fenedhis,  _ Dorian, this is ridiculous. When he was talking I started to think about - what we were talking about the other day - I started to think about Cullen. I thought that if I wanted anyone to be saying this sort of thing to me, it would be him. Gah!” she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands. 

“Alright then. So you like the Commander. Too bad Solas, better luck next time. Go make that awkward Chantry boy blush,” Dorian teased. 

“No but that's the problem! I  _ shouldn't  _ like Cullen - that's impossible! He's an ex-templar and I'm a  _ mage -  _ there's no way he'd be interested in me! Plus, I'm the Inquisitor - he'd never do anything to jeopardise our ‘professional relationship’. So now I'm stuck even more that I was before with a big fat hopeless crush. And now a mystical fade elf friend who  _ might  _ want me but  _ I'm _ not interested.”

“What a dilemma,” Dorian remarked dryly, and Eliya laughed. 

“Thanks for the support, Dorian. This is why I come to you with all my troubles,” she laughed. 

“That's what I'm here for - and to look dashing of course.”

“Well that goes without saying.” 

“You know though, Eliya, you're very beautiful too. I'm sure the Commander has noticed that. I wouldn't count him out too soon,” Dorian added kindly. 

Eliya nodded and shrugged, though she didn't really feel so relaxed about it. “I'm probably just being melodramatic.”

“Well, I’m not being melodramatic when I say that I will freeze to death if we are out here for much longer - come inside and we’ll get some breakfast to soothe your troubled soul,” Dorian suggested, and they headed back towards the main hall.

“Speaking of the weather - I haven't spoken to you since the war council yesterday afternoon. You're coming with me to the Western Approach to investigate these Venatori. Bull and Cole are coming too - we're leaving at the end of the week,” said Eliya.

“Nothing like a little sun and sand to make you feel better about life, hmm?”

“Yes, well I thought you'd appreciate the warmer climate. I do think it'll be more like a  _ lot  _ of sun and sand though. And from the reports, lots of big lizards too.”

“Oh the joys of being your favourite mage companion. Now I'm starting to wish Solas hadn't freaked you out so you'd be willing to take him instead.”

Eliya shook her head with a giggle. “His poor head would get sunburnt!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dorian is obviously good friends with both Cullen and my Inquisitor and though he is for-sure on board with them getting together I feel like he wouldn't want to spoil the fun by telling them outright what the other one had already said. He probably figures that they are both adults and can sort it out themselves!
> 
> Also, from what I know of Solas and his romance I definitely feel like Eliya ticks all the boxes to be his type: elf, mage, thoughtful and open-minded, asks a lot of questions etc. And yet Eliya (like me) has basically no romantic interest in him, even though she feels like she should.


	13. Dragons and stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor fights the Abyssal High Dragon in the Western Approach. Cullen isn't happy. The Iron Bull is!
> 
> ""I know exactly what you're going to say. 'Dragons are far too dangerous. That was a very poor decision. You shouldn't have put your team's life at risk. It's a miracle no one was hurt.'"
> 
> Cullen frowned, "I would have started with 'Hello, Inquisitor, it is good to see you' but otherwise yes, that is the essential message I wanted to convey.""

_ Hello everyone, hope things are good back there at Skyhold. Remember that Orlesian University Professor I wrote about who wanted us to help him translate the Tevinter text about luring dragons? Well he was very grateful and ended up asking us to help him with something else. He asked us to set lures for the Abyssal High Dragon. I'm not sure what I expected to happen after that but long story short, the lures worked, and then we had a very large and angry dragon on our hands. She was certainly impressive, but unfortunately she wanted to eat us so we killed her. Everyone made it out alright despite a few cuts and burns - Iron Bull says it was the best day of his life. Anyway, I thought it was something you needed to know and Commander Cullen if you could dispatch a few men to properly utilise what's left of her it would be much appreciated. Otherwise we have done what we came here to do - expect our return to Skyhold within the fortnight so we can determine the next course of action.- Inquisitor Lavellan _

When Leliana had handed Cullen the Inquisitor’s note about the dragon, he was entirely unable to speak coherently for several minutes. Instead he entertained the Ambassador and Spymaster with a range of profanities, frustrated noises and half-sentences that generally incorporated the word ‘why?’ 

“It is not so bad, Commander. See as she has written herself, everyone is fine,” Josephine had said with a giggle.

“She fought  _ a dragon.  _ With  _ three people  _ by her side. How could she be so  _ reckless,  _ it was absurdly foolish, she might have died… why did she even need to help that Orlesian in the first place? Gah! Why are you two  _ laughing  _ about this?” 

“Your face is quite red, Commander, and it looks like you will simply burst,” Leliana said slyly.

“That's because I'm angry! Aren't you?”

“Well, it was undoubtedly an unwise situation to get involved in, but it has all worked out fine, so there is no sense in fussing. The Inquisitor is not even here to be the object of your lecture,” Josephine replied.

“Though it is very  _ sweet  _ to see how concerned you are for her welfare,” Leliana added. 

Cullen stayed fuming for the rest of their meeting. In fact, he was determined to stay mad until she returned and he could reprimand her properly. When the watchmen finally sounded the horns to announce her return, he watched her dismounting wearily from her horse. He was one of the first people she spotted, standing in his not-at-all strategically chosen position near the stables pretending to review some equipment list.    
  
"Commander!" she called out, gesturing for him to come over. Spotting the look on his face, she cut him off before he had a chance to begin his lecture.    
  
"I know exactly what you're going to say. 'Dragons are far too dangerous. That was a very poor decision. You shouldn't have put your team's life at risk. It's a miracle no one was hurt.'"   
  
Cullen frowned, "I would have started with 'Hello, Inquisitor, it is good to see you' but otherwise yes, that is the essential message I wanted to convey."   
  
Eliya laughed breathlessly. "Forgive me?" She asked Cullen with a coquettish smile. It made his stomach flutter and he felt powerless against her charm.   
  
"Of course," he answered gruffly.   
  
"Thank you! Oh Cullen, I know it was risky but she was so incredible! She had so much raw power, so much fire! Her talons were like the length of my arm each - just wait until you see it - we left most of the remains for your soldiers to sort out but Bull and I took a few souvenirs each... She did this thing when she flapped her wings and it made like a whooshing vortex that pulled you in so she could stomp at you with her feet..."   
  
Cullen was captivated and a little dazed by her enthusiasm. She was flinging her arms about as she spoke and her brilliant eyes were positively glowing. He barely noticed The Iron Bull approaching until the Qunari clapped him on the shoulders by way of a friendly greeting, and Cullen's knees almost gave way.   
  
"Boss and I are going for a drink, Cullen. We haven't had a chance to properly celebrate yet. Want to come join?" Bull asked in his friendly growl.   
  
"We really ought to call a War Council - to discuss the situation at Adamant..." Cullen protested.   
  
"Oh, Cullen, can't it wait until the morning? It's so late in the afternoon already and I'm  _ so _ tired... I think a few drinks and then a bath is about all I can handle," she pleaded with the same eager smile.    
  
"Understandable. I'll ah - go speak with the others, inform them of the plan. Perhaps I'll join you in a short while," Cullen capitulated.    
  
"YES! Time to drink!" Shouted Iron Bull, grabbing Eliya around the waist and hoisting her onto his shoulder. She waved bemusedly back at Cullen as they headed off towards the Herald's Rest, Bull shouting the exciting news of their kill to whomever would listen.   
  
While Josephine and Leliana were understanding of the Inquisitor’s tiredness, they resolved that there was rather a lot of pre-planning required to ensure the War Council the next day ran as productively as possible. As such, Cullen found himself trapped in the War Room for the next several hours instead of in the warm, crowded tavern drinking ale with the Inquisitor. It was quite late when they finally wrapped up, and he resolved to at least check the bar before turning in for the night. In the end, he didn't even make it that far. As he crossed the grassy stretch of the keep, he saw the shadowy figures of two very recognisable individuals doubled-up with raucous laughter. Eliya dropped to her knees and then rolled onto her back as she giggled, while Bull was slapping his knees and extolling jubilant profanities.    
  
"Is everything alright?" Cullen called out, and was met with gleeful welcome.   
  
"You missed it, Cullen! Without you I was at Bull's mercy... he made me drink this foul Qunari stuff..." Eliya proclaimed, still laughing and slurring her words.   
  
"You took it like a champion, boss! You'll have a hairy chest by the morning!" Bull replied. "I thought she was doing fine, but it might have just been the bar propping her up... as soon as we went to leave it was pretty clear she couldn't walk..." he added as an aside to Cullen.

"He tried to put me on his shoulders again... but he fumbled and ended up jabbing me with his horns... then one of them got hooked in my belt and I was just hanging there! He started shaking his head around to get me off... I swear I nearly threw up all over him... and then I went flying off into the grass... and then you came over, Cullen!"   
  
Eliya continued to laugh hysterically through the whole story. Cullen was torn between amusement and worry.    
  
"Let me help you get back to your rooms - I presume that was where you were headed?"   
  
Eliya hummed in what he hoped was affirmation as Cullen bent down to help her to her feet. Once she was vertical again he pulled her arm over his shoulders, eliciting Bull's assistance to prop her up on the other side. It was soon quite clear that the height difference between the three of them made this untenable, and Bull let to go lope behind them as they made their way up the stairs into the hall.   
  
It would have been more effective for Cullen to have carried Eliya bodily, like he did after the fall of Haven, but he was far from game enough to even ask. Instead her body pressed against his along one side, and he fought to ensure his hand remained appropriately situated on her hip. Her feet were stumbling along quite determinedly, but he felt her face resting in the fur of his ruff, and now and then a huff of hot breath would brush against his skin sending shivers down his spine.    
  
To Cullen's relief the main hall was mostly empty, so there were few witnesses to their stumbling sideshow. With great difficulty he navigated up the many stairs to the Inquisitor’s chambers, with Bull helpfully pushing Eliya forward with a massive hand on her backside.    
  
He lay Eliya gently down onto her bed and she rolled over to one side almost instantly, tucking her knees up towards her chest. Bull let out a loud groan and Cullen turned to see him settling down on the Inquisitor’s couch, massive legs hanging over the edge. Within moments he was asleep. Cullen wondered if he ought to get the qunari to leave - not out of fear for anything untoward actually happening, of course, but people might talk if they saw The Iron Bull leaving the Inquisitor’s quarters early in the morning. Then again, by all reports Sera, Dorian and even Cole had been seen in the exact same situation. Perhaps people would recognise that the Inquisitor merely maintained a very friendly relationship with her companions - or that Dalish propriety was markedly different from human ideas.    
  
"Thanks, Cullen," came a murmur from the bed. He turned back to see Eliya running her hands gently through her hair, massaging her scalp.    
  
"Happy to help, Inquisitor. Do you want some water?"    
  
Eliya nodded, and Cullen crossed the room to her small water closet in hopes of finding a ewer. The large bathtub in the centre of the room was full - Cullen had asked the maids to prepare a bath for the Inquisitor for when she turned in after her 'drink'. The water was quite cold now.  _ Oh well.  _ He located the ewer and a cup and collected both to bring out to her bedside.

But when he returned to her main chamber, Eliya wasn't there. How could she still move so quietly even when drunk? The Iron Bull was already snoring loudly - Cullen hoped Eliya was a heavy sleeper, to withstand that noise. A quick search located her easily. She was lying flat on her back on the balcony,  staring up at the night sky. She murmured her thanks as he handed her a cup of water and propped herself up to drink it all in one go, then settled down again with a sigh. 

  
"What's your favorite color,  Cullen?" She asked dreamily.    
  
"Oh - um... green," he answered truthfully.   
  
She made a contented hum of approval. "Green is wonderful. Trees and grass and rolling hills. Reminds me of home."   
  
"Yes."  _ And your eyes _ , he thought sheepishly.  _ Those extraordinary green eyes _ .   
  
"Mine is dark blue," she announced, "like the night sky." She waved her hand to gesture to the inky expanse above them, lit by the brilliance of so many stars. "Just look at it Cullen. It is so beautiful."   
  
He took a proper look, partly because he wanted to please her and partly because he was always grasping for opportunities that would help him understand her just a little more. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really stopped and looked at the sky. It really was breathtaking, the broad sweep of the heavens laid out like a masterpiece. When he tore his eyes away and looked back over at the Inquisitor, he saw that her eyes were closed and her chest rose and fell with the steady breath of sleep.   
  
He debated over whether he ought to pick her up and carry her over to her bed, but it seemed too -  _ intimate _ \- a thing to do. Instead he took a pillow and two of the warmer blankets from her bed and brought them out to the balcony. He lifted her head gently on to the pillow and covered her sleeping form. Then he allowed himself only a moment to admire how extraordinarily beautiful she looked, her pale skin glowing in the starlight, before he left the room and returned to his own quarters for the night.    
  


\---

Eliya woke up to sunshine and a cool morning breeze across her face. It took her a moment to figure out where she was, but as she sat up she vaguely remembered lying out on her balcony the night before to look up at the stars. Ugh, it was so bright out there and she had the most awful dry feeling in her throat, not to mention a pounding headache. She hadn't slept badly though - W)where had the blankets and pillows come from? Oh -  _ Cullen.  _ Eliya's heart fluttered at the memory of him helping her up the stairs and bringing water out onto the balcony - he must have done the rest after she fell asleep. 

Stretching, Eliya got up and laughed at the sight of Iron Bull spread out on her far-too-small couch. Then she moved into her water closet, hoping to find some willowbark that she could chew on to ease her headache. Instead she was presented with a bathtub full of cold water - who had asked to have it filled for her? A bath was exactly what she needed and fortunately she had the means to make it warm at her fingertips - literally. 

“Oi Bull - I'm having a bath - don't come in!” she called out, and heard a loud grunt in response. She peeled off the layers of clothing she had worn for days - not much point changing when all you did was travel. The water was warm in an instant once she had dipped her hands in, and she reveled in soaking in the feeling for longer than she should have. She used a little of the apple-scented soap Josie had given her, washing the accumulated dust and filth from her hair and skin. When she heard the sounds of Bull finally waking up, Eliya toweled herself dry and slipped into the freshly laundered outfit the maids always had waiting upon her return to Skyhold. The little chance to relax had done wonders to soothe her hangover, but there was one thing she still needed - food. And tea. 

Eliya heard a knock at her chamber door and she called out to invite whoever it was in. Her wishes were fulfilled when her two favourite maids - Leanne and Susannah -  appeared, bearing trays laden with breakfast and a pot of tea. 

“You absolute angels!” she exclaimed, sentiment echoed in Bull's growl of approval. The ladies just giggled at the sight of him - one reason they were her two favourites. They took it as gospel that Eliya's sleepover companions were nothing more than friends, and as such actively discouraged any rumours to the contrary amongst the occupants of Skyhold. Though she cared little about idle gossip, it was certainly beneficial to her reputation and kept Josie off her back. Plus, their standard response to almost anything was to burst in fits of laughter, which Eliya found deeply endearing.

“Good morning your worship!” they chorused as they set down to food ad Eliya rushed forwards to dig in. “Did you sleep well?”

Eliya gave a non-committal jerk of her head and mumbled through a mouth full of buttered toast. “Not so bad considering I thought it was a good idea to sleep on the balcony. Probably better than Bull fared on the couch.” 

Bull grunted again in response, grabbing some food for himself.

“A man of many words in the mornings,” she told the maids sagely. “Thank you both so much for this food. And who filled up my bathtub? I've just had the most wonderful soak.”

Susannah beamed. “We did it last night upon your return, at Commander Cullen's request. He's the one who sent us to bring you breakfast as well, my lady.”

Eliya felt her heart flutter again - that was so thoughtful of him! “I could _kiss_ that man!”she exclaimed, sending the maids once again into uncontrollable giggles. “I see I'm not the only one!” she added with a cheeky grin.  
  
As the maids began to re-make her bed and collect her laundry, Eliya thought about these small gestures from Cullen. Maybe it was a sign that he wasn't so indifferent to her - but no. He was a polite man. He had seen the state she was in the night before and knew they were to have an early morning War Council. It was much more likely he had simply taken pity and done what he might to ensure that she was as well as possible for that event. He was always very professional like that. That was all it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Cullen is so polite and gentlemanly. Getting closer to the two of them sorting themselves out but we need a few more chapters of fluff and angst first! Please leave comments if you are enjoying :)


	14. Of a life once lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya returns Cullen's kind gestures with one of her own, and opens up about her life before the Conclave.
> 
> "“Will you go back, do you think? When this is over?”
> 
> Eliya frowned. There were some things about life with her clan that she missed terribly. Mostly the freedom that Dalish life afforded. But while things were difficult here, she had seen and experienced so much more than she had ever imagined. Could she go back to the way things were before?"

Eliya was armed with a basket of food and a plan. She had asked in the kitchens and amongst a few of Cullen's men, and they had all confirmed that he had barely eaten in days. She hadn’t yet found a way to repay him for his kind gestures during her drunken escapades - so she had resolved to bring him lunch and share the meal with him.

She knew she was skirting disaster, but it wasn't just that she liked to look at him - oh, how she loved to look at him. She also genuinely enjoyed his company, his awkwardness when she teased him, the earnest way he listened to her, his honesty and forthrightness when he wanted his opinions known. She loved the sound of his voice and the way he scrunched up his face when he was angry or frustrated. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have his arms around her, his lips on her skin, what his voice would sound like in the throes of passion. Not that he'd ever see her in that way.

Right now she was crossing the walkway to his office just hoping for some time.

Cullen had his back to the door as she entered. He was giving instructions to a group of seven men and women, some of whom whose attention faltered at the sight of her.

“Am I boring you, Macquarie?” Cullen growled, and the young redhead closest to Eliya blushed furiously, his attention snapping back to his Commander. Eliya waited patiently as he finished giving orders, smiling sweetly as Macquarie and the other soldiers threw her occasional uncertain glances. It was only when Cullen turned to show them all out that he noticed Eliya's presence - and it came as quite a shock.

“Inquisitor! Forgive me for keeping you waiting, I didn't realise you were there… why didn't any of you tell me?” he asked in annoyance.

“It's no problem Commander, I was happy to wait. And I think Macquarie here might have mentioned something if you hadn't told him off,” she added playfully. Both men blushed furiously and Eliya nodded to the soldiers as they filed out, obviously eager to remove themselves from such an awkward situation.

“How is it that you always manage to sneak up on me?” Cullen asked ruefully.

Eliya’s eyes sparkled as she replied, “Just one of the many advantages of being a sneaky elf. Plus it's a helpful tactic to stop you from running away from me. Part of my plan to trick you into being my friend.”

“You don't have to trick me into being your friend, Inquisitor,” Cullen said earnestly. Now Eliya was the one blushing.

“I, uh - I brought you some lunch. I thought we could eat together?” she asked tentatively. She could see his brow knotting together, probably trying to fight the urge to say “I'm too busy”.

“I would… I'd like that very much, Inquisitor,” he graciously accepted. “Please, come and take a seat.” Cullen pulled out the chair on one side of his desk for her, ever the gentleman. Eliya pulled the assortment of food she had collected out of the basket and laid it out on Cullen's desk as he sat down on the other side of it. She had asked the kitchens for whatever might be spared, and they had filled her small hamper with bread, cheese and leftover roast mutton. They'd even given her a few of the apple pies she loved - she'd never eaten anything like them with her clan.

“Help yourself,” Eliya told Cullen, but she sensed his hesitation. She grabbed some of the bread herself, tore it into pieces to go with the cheese and started eating with her hands. Josephine had taught her all about human dining etiquette months ago, to prevent her from drinking her soup straight from the bowl when fancy dignitaries were about. She was happy to observe such standards when in proper company, for the sake of Josephine's nerves, but otherwise she had no time for it. Eating was eating. She raised an eyebrow at Cullen as he watched her across the desk, wondering if it bothered him. Instead, he grinned and reached out to pick up a mutton bone with his hands.

“I must say I prefer this kind of meal to the parties Josephine keeps throwing. I've a mind to tell her I'm busy washing my hair or something the next time she wants to force me to sit next to some insufferable Orlesian nobility,” Cullen quipped.

“If I have to go, you have to come too Cullen. We can always be miserable together,” Eliya replied.

“Yes, but you're far better at pretending to be interested in what they are saying than I am. I'm a liability, honestly.”

“I mostly put up with it because if the pretty dresses Josephine gets me to wear.”

“A benefit I sadly cannot share,” Cullen said with mock sadness, and they both laughed. That was followed by a few moments of somewhat awkward silence, until Cullen broke it again.

“Was there anything you particularly wanted to discuss?”

He was so businesslike, Eliya almost rolled her eyes. “I suppose there isn't much more to we can learn of each other, now that we've shared our favourite colours,” she quipped. Cullen looked surprised.

“You… remember that conversation?”

“I do. In fact I remember the whole night well enough to know that I thoroughly earned the terrible hangover I had the next day.” She paused her eating, glancing up to meet his eyes. “I was very thankful for your kind gesture with the breakfast as well, Commander.”

“I… didn't realise you knew that was me,” he confessed, looking sheepish.

“The maids told me,” she whispered conspiratorially. “This is my way of saying thank you, Cullen. It was very kind.”

“I - you are… _ahem._ You are most welcome, Eliya,” he stammered, and she smiled at hearing him actually use her name.

“But we still haven't thought of a conversation topic,” Eliya added.

“Perhaps you could tell me about your clan - your family? When we played chess the other day I spoke so much about my own and it was only later I realised how little I know about your life before all this.”

Eliya tilted her head to one side, considering where to begin.

“Well, Leliana will have told you that I wasn't born a Lavellan. My family's clan was the Thirainduel. My mother and father were both very respected hunters. I had two older brothers who, last I had heard, followed in my parents footsteps.

My mother died when I was six. It was a bad fever, that's all I really remember, that she was sick and shaking and the clan couldn't move on for some time because we were too afraid to move her. My mother was a very beautiful woman - and kind too, from what I remember. My father loved her more than anything else in the world. He was lost, after she died.

It was about two years later that my magic first started to show itself. Neither of my parents were mages, so it was a big surprise, even though we know that's not how it works. The problem was, we already had quite a few mages in our clan. The Dalish tend to limit that, so clans don't attract the interest of Templars or scare the humans near where we travel. The Keeper had two children who were mages, and he wasn't inclined to say goodbye to them.

So, when I was nine there was an Arlathvhen - when the clans come and meet together. That's normally when clans will trade people, to even out numbers or help to mix bloodlines. My Keeper met with the Lavellan clan, as they'd just lost almost all their mages in an attack by Templars. The only one left, a young woman named Deshanna, had become their new Keeper but had no second. They also had an orphan girl about the same age as me, who had shown no signs of magic. The agreement was made and I was traded to the Lavellan.”

“Didn't it bother your father and your brothers, to let you go?” Cullen asked, his brow creased in sympathy. Eliya shook her head.

“I don't think so. Not as much as it would have upset the Keeper, to give up one of his children. My family didn't know how to handle my magic. I was never as close to them as I was my mother. And I think - people say I look a lot like her. For my father that might have been difficult - to have a constant reminder of her, I suppose.”

Eliya tried not to be too self-pitying when she spoke about her past; but she could see the sympathy in Cullen's eyes. She hadn't actually told many people about the Thirainduel’s - no one had ever asked. It was a reflection of the strange intimacy she had established with him - her Commander.

He made a motion with his hand, as though he thought to reach out to her and then changed his mind. “I'm sorry - you deserved better than that,” he said simply, offering a kind smile instead.

“Well, after that Deshanna was very good to me. She taught me a lot and helped me to really master my magic. I was never that close with many other people in the clan - I've never been very close to anyone, really. But I do miss Deshanna, sometimes.”

“Will you go back, do you think? When this is over?”

Eliya frowned. There were some things about life with her clan that she missed terribly. Mostly the freedom that Dalish life afforded. But while things were difficult here, she had seen and experienced so much more than she had ever imagined. Could she go back to the way things were before?

“No… I don't think so. There were parts of my life that I'll always miss - but I don't think there is such a thing as going back. Not for me, not any more. Besides, life in the clan will have moved on. Deshanna will be training the little ones with magic to take my place as first. She is still young, she doesn't need me to replace her and I don't think I'd make a very good Keeper regardless. I would like to see Deshanna again one day, though.”

“You speak very fondly of her.”

“She has been a combination of mother, sister and mentor to me. To the rest of the clan, she was… Deshanna was what they needed, when they needed it. After they were attacked by Templars, it could have torn the clan apart. The fear and the hatred that an encounter like that breeds is just as destructive as the violence itself. Under another leader, the Lavellan’s might have used their suffering as a reason to start preying on human settlements, or to withdraw into the wild and become one of the clans that is spoken of but rarely seen, defending their dark parts of the wilds. The problem with that is, the Lavellan’s rely on craft and trade to survive. They aren't a warrior clan, and the templar attack cost them their best mages and fighters. Deshanna’s leadership helped them to rebuild and create new ties with the humans, better ones than they had before. Deshanna has a way of connecting with people, making them feel valued and important, and she uses it to makes sure that even if her decisions aren't popular, they are always understood.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Cullen replied.

Eliya felt a sudden rush of warmth. He really thought that about her? She certainly couldn't see it. Connecting with people wasn't something that came naturally, she always felt so strained and thought that it must be noticeable, must make people question her.

“I'm not… I've never been good at - understanding people. You have all been so patient with me, I know I can be strange and bad at talking and people don't… people don't ever _really_ like me… This is the first time I've ever felt like I had friends. It's another reason why I wouldn't want to leave when this is all over.”

She didn't know why she was confessing all of her insecurities to him. Perhaps because she knew things hadn't always been easy between them.

“Didn’t you once tell me that you knew yourself to be a ‘fairly excellent person’? From where I stood, you began to command the hearts and minds of everyone around you almost from the first.”

That made Eliya laugh quietly. “I meant it as in I’ve been around long enough to be comfortable with who I am, to like my own personality. That doesn’t mean I’m used to other people seeing me the same way. When this all started I figured I was getting attention because they were curious or afraid of me. Now I just keep waiting for people to realise I'm not who they think I am, I'm not a saviour or a villain.”

Cullen shook his head. “You might not be either of those things, but you've proven yourself to be something else entirely. Someone worth following. I was - uncertain - about you for a time. But I think it became clear that you were genuine in your efforts to try - and I think that means a lot more than a natural aptitude for such things,” he replied carefully.

“Mmm. _You_ once told me, ‘It is enough that you would try.’ Do you really believe that?”

He looked surprised to hear himself quoted like that - but pleased as well. “I do.”

She hummed thoughtfully and they finished the rest of the food in a companionable silence. Then it was time for them both to get back to work, and Eliya thought it was sweet the way he walked to the door of his office with her, instead of staying put behind his desk.  
  
Later that night, she found herself replaying their conversation over and over. It had been so nice to have another non-work related conversation with him. And he had been so kind and friendly. They had really come so far from their tense and standoffish first encounters. She'd have to bring him lunch again sometime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midweek post because I was lazy on the weekend and reading so many other amazing fics / worrying about Greg Ellis but glad to know he is safe and well. If you're writing something Dragon Age let me know in the comments as I'd love to read it :) Also thank you to everyone who has read this so far and left kudos. It means a lot, I've never really shown anyone my writing before.  
> I know everyone has their romance play out slightly differently - which is amazing - so FYI mine is very much a slow burn. They know they are attracted to each other now at least, but it doesn't change the fact that they are both awkward / uncertain / lacking self-confidence. This chapter was a step towards them become much closer though - Eliya feels very comfortable talking to Cullen about her issues.


	15. Aches, Heaves, Shakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's lyrium withdrawals come back with a vengeance and Eliya notices. She may not be a healer but she'll do what she can to help.
> 
> "He watched as she placed her basket on his desk, and unloaded an array of small items from it. There was a pot of strong smelling tea that surprisingly didn't make his stomach turn, along with the bread rolls and cheese she had brought him initially. A small bottle with a green glass stopper of what looked like oil, and a handful of tree bark.
> 
> She poured him a cup of the tea and pressed it into his hands. "What is it?" he asked.
> 
> "Tea," she replied deadpan, then laughed at her own joke."

They were preparing the Inquisition’s armies to make the journey to the Western Approach, and with so much to do it was a particularly inconvenient time for Cullen's lyrium withdrawals to take a turn for the worse. All day as he gave orders, read supply lists and inspected equipment he was also fighting a piercing headache and tremors that made his knees weak and his hands shake. Of course it made his temper short too - so when someone gave a knock at his door that was a little too upbeat he answered with a less than friendly, "What?"  
  
Eliya pushed open the door, food in hand and her eyebrows raised. He regretted his tone at once, but she didn't seem offended. She had been bringing him food now and then when she was around in Skyhold, particularly when they had Inquisition matters to discuss. It had become his SC absolute favorite part of the day. Even when she was busy doing other things, he would sometimes return to his office to find some small meal waiting for him. He told himself that this was simply her nature; she was a person inclined to giving as a token of friendship and esteem. She collected flowers for Josephine; brought interesting books that she found for Dorian and Cassandra; Grey Warden relics for Blackwall and so on. He supposed he must be a particularly dull person, that food was all she could think of as a gift for him. Or, more encouragingly, she saw him as a practical man that needed to be fed. Either way, he found himself looking forward to the moments he could steal with her, despite his repeated protestations that he was very busy. Today, however, that protestation was more true than ever before.  
  
"My apologies, Inquisitor, this isn't a good -"  
  
"Of course it isn't Cullen! I know you're very busy and important. But even Commanders need to remember to eat and I know you haven't had anything all day. So, you're going to take this food and eat it - even if you need to keep working while you do it - and I'm going to sit in that seat and watch until you do," she cut across him. Maker, she could be stubborn - in a deeply endearing way. He wasn't quite sure how to let her know about the intense nausea he was presently experiencing, which was why he hadn't eaten all day and why he would not be able to appease her. As he stood, however, his withdrawals took care of that for him. He was hit by an intense wave of pain that made him stumble and groan, bracing himself against his desk to avoid falling altogether from the weakness in his knees.  
  
He heard a short gasp and then Eliya was there in a flash, guiding him back into his seat. "Commander, you're not well!" she stated, as though he wasn't aware of it.  
  
"Just a headache, Inquisitor," he grunted in reply, and she tsked him quietly. "Really, I'll be fine.  Our army marches out in just a few days, I've no time to be ill."  
  
She made a disapproving noise worthy of Cassandra and ordered him to look up at her.

“Is it the lyrium?” 

There was little point in pretending when she could clearly see right through him. He nodded briskly, avoiding her eyes.  
  
To his surprise she reached out with both hands to touch his face, muttering in elven. His apprehension must have shown on his face, as she gave him a gentle smile.  
  
"Don't worry Commander - I'm just figuring out how to help. Sit still."  
  
He felt himself flush as she pressed her fingers to his temples, neck and jawline, but fortunately he was already so feverish he doubted she would be able to tell. Her touch was light, enquiring, and he wondered what she was doing. Then she promptly dropped her hands and stepped back.  
  
"Right. I'll be back shortly - you are not to leave this office, Commander." She told him sternly. As though he would dare.  
  
He heard her footsteps approaching again some time later, and the muffled sounds of her speaking quietly do the guard at his door. She entered with a basket over her arm and offered a small smile of gratefulness that he had stayed put. Then to his surprise, she locked the door behind her.  
  
"Inquisitor, I'm very grateful for your kindness, but I'm really very busy at the moment. I'll be fine, you needn't worry."  
  
Eliya rolled her eyes as she crossed the room. "I know you are busy, we're all busy, but you're not well and if you don't look after yourself it will only get worse. It might get so much worse that it puts you out of action, and then we will be without a Commander for our assault on Adamant. You'll be stuck here, angry at yourself, and I'll be angry too because I need you there. So, I believe that you can spare just a few minutes to let me help you feel better. I'm no healer, but hopefully I can give you a small amount of relief. Please let me do this, Commander."  
  
He sighed and nodded reluctantly, but his stomach had clenched at the way she said she needed him. _She meant it as in the Inquisition needed him_ , he reminded himself, but still.  
  
He watched as she placed her basket on his desk, and unloaded an array of small items from it. There was a pot of strong smelling tea that surprisingly didn't make his stomach turn, along with the bread rolls and cheese she had brought him initially. A small bottle with a green glass stopper of what looked like oil, and a handful of tree bark.  
  
She poured him a cup of the tea and pressed it into his hands. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"Tea," she replied deadpan, then laughed at her own joke. "Willowbark, same as that stuff-" she pointed to the strips she had taken out separately - "with a little dried apple added in to make it taste better. I've always preferred it that way. It's an elven healing thing - it helps to ease headaches and settle the stomach."  
  
He made a mental note that she liked dried apples. The scent of the tea alone was soothing, and when he took a tentative sip he was gratified to find that his body did not revolt. It had an odd flavour but wasn't unpleasant - and he appreciated the sweetness of the apple.  
  
Eliya was watching him closely, leaning against his desk just out of arm’s reach. He drank another mouthful of the tea, then set the cup down. "Not terrible," he announced grudgingly. Eliya laughed.  
  
"Glad to hear it. There's not much of it in Skyhold - that's all I could find - but I'll collect some next time I get the chance. You're going to drink that whole batch of tea and then you'll be able to eat the bread and the cheese. They're plain so they won't turn your stomach and they'll give you some energy and sustenance. I've given you the dried bark too just in case, you can keep it in your desk drawer or something - if you chew on it it'll get rid of your headache quite quickly. The tea is nicer but it takes longer so I know I can't trust you with it when I'm not around. Right - next. I'm going to have to ask you to take off your coat and your armour, Commander."  
  
He had been midway through taking another sip of the drink, and consequently began to splutter awkwardly. "I - excuse me?"  
  
"Oh come on, it's not like I'm asking you to strip entirely. You can keep your shirt - and your breeches, even your arm plating on, but I won't be able to work your neck and shoulder muscles with all that metal and fur in the way."  
  
"You don't - why would you need to-" Cullen was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck, but Eliya just smiled patiently.  
  
"You carry a lot of pain and tension in your neck and shoulder muscles, and the tremors you're experiencing make it worse - not to mention the weight of all that armour.  I'm going to give you a massage to help dissolve some of that tension which should help relax your body generally and ease the pressure which is partly contributing to your headaches. Plus, you're stressed, and a massage will help clear your head. If you don't let me, I will go to the infirmary and have the healers accost you. What would you prefer?"  
  
Again he sighed and nodded, reluctantly removing his coat and fumbling with the buckles of his breastplate. He was thankful that Eliya had wandered over to stare at the bookshelves instead of watching him undress - it seemed far too personal a thing to do. Once he had arranged his articles neatly on his desk, he cleared his throat quietly to indicate that he was ready.  
  
"See, that wasn't so hard," she teased him gently. "Now sit back down and try to relax."  
  
He found it ironic that she was _commanding_ him to relax, but he leaned back in his seat nonetheless. She rested one hand on his shoulder for a moment, as though to acquaint him with the feeling of her touch. He was still surprised when she pressed both palms against the muscles of his shoulder - her hands were suddenly hot, he could feel them clearly even through the fabric of his shirt.  
  
"Oh! How are your hands so-" he exclaimed.  
  
"Fire mage, remember?" She said quietly, leaning in so that a few strands of her hair brushed his skin. "Don't worry,  I'm not going to burn you. It'd be a shame to ruin something so pretty," she added playfully.  
  
The warmth and pressure of her hands was already working wonders, he could feel it. Still he clenched his fists, one last bastion of self-control preventing him from emitting any embarrassing groans of relief or contentment. She was strong; expertly kneading out knots and tension he didn't even realised he carried until she released it. Now and then she'd release a little huff of breath that would make the hair on the back of Cullen's neck rise. It struck him that this was the first time she had initiated any real physical contact between them. He had held her on two occasions - bringing her out from the snow after Haven and helping her up the stairs when she and the Iron Bull had drunk too much. Neither of those counted in his mind; she was either unconscious or too incapacitated to take notice.  
  
He saw the way she was with others - a hand gently placed on Josephine’s, Iron Bull’s arm slung casually over her shoulder, a hug her usual greeting for Cole and Dorian. She was much more reserved with him. Despite his protestations he was grateful that his illness had given her a reason to bridge that divide between them. When she finally lifted her hands and stepped away from behind his chair, Cullen couldn't prevent the small 'oh' that escaped his lips. Eliya chuckled.  
  
"Despair not - I haven't finished yet. I just need to use some of this oil," she consoled him, deft fingers unstopping the small vial. The oil inside had strange, burning sort of smell that moved immediately to the back of Cullen’s nostrils and made his eyes water.  
  
"A mix of camphor, peppermint and horseradish," she announced, daubing some onto her fingers and running them gently from his neck muscles down across his back and shoulders. It was a curious feeling - at first it seemed cold, but soon began to emit a heat that he felt radiating through his muscles. She continued to rub the oil into his skin, even applying a tiny amount to his temples and up into his hairline. He might have protested that she would mess up his hair if it didn't feel so nice - and he didn’t want to appear vain. Her short fingernails raked across his scalp, thumbs pressing into the sore points at the base of his skull. He felt, well, _pampered_ , and far better for her ministrations. Eventually she moved away again, to let the oil continue its work melting away the aches he had become so accustomed to.  
  
"I'll leave the bottle for you, it's an easy thing to make. You might find it useful if you pull up sore after a fight - I used it almost every day when the Lavellan warriors first showed me to use a staff. Just don't get it in your eyes or mouth or anywhere else sensitive - that's not a nice burn to feel. Don't forget to finish your tea and eat the food, Commander," she instructed him as she returned to the other side of the desk and their usual, safe distance.  
  
"Thank you,  Inquisitor. You were right - I do feel much better," he said earnestly. He was rewarded with Eliya's full, beaming smile that made the breath catch in his throat. She was always so eager to help people, so genuine in her care and concern. It made his heart ache with affection.  
  
"My pleasure, Commander. Do try to look after yourself," she replied, and left his office.  
  
Cullen poured himself another cup of the tea and picked up a piece of the bread, eyeing his breastplate with disdain. He resolved not to put it back on until he needed to leave the office, and settled back to work feeling infinitely lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff fluff fluff. Plus actual physical contact hooray. Adamant is next, should have another chapter up in the next few days. Got to love writing when you should really be doing proper work.
> 
> Also thanks so much for the comments and kudos on the last chapter, I'm so excited to share this with you. Some of my favourite stuff that I have written is still to come :)


	16. This feeling never leaves you alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition attacks the Wardens controlled by Erimond at Adamant Fortress, and Eliya ends up in the Fade. Nightmares are more terrifying when it's your real life. 
> 
> "Don't stop to think. Don't let it catch up to you. None of this matters unless you get them all out."

_He is the nightmare you forget upon waking._

Maybe that had been true before. But now Eliya had seen the terror with her waking eyes and there would be no forgetting.

Right from the start, the assault on Adamant had been awful. Eliya had never been in a battle like it before - at Haven they had been the ones under attack. The sheer scale of their forces slamming against those stone walls, the sounds of men screaming as they were thrown from the swinging ladders or cut down by the demons running rampant.

When the battering ram took down the doors and Cullen sent her forward, asking for help on the battlements, Eliya had felt like a fraud. This was not a situation where she could help - it was chaos, and she had led these people here. How many of them would die?

Then she was forced back to reality by the oncoming horde of enemies. Clarity came with cutting them down, focusing on one at a time, pushing forward, her team at her side. She'd one day realise that while the people pulling strings might sit back and talk of tactics and give orders, for the men and women who did the real fighting, _every_ battle was chaos. You fought to stay alive and hoped that enough people on your side managed the same.

Then there were the Wardens, and their twisted ritual, and Erimond’s vile manipulations, and Corypheus’ horror dragon looming down on them. She watched it snap Clarel up in it's jaws, heard the Warden’s struggling last words, felt the stone of the fortress begin to crumble beneath her feet.

Eliya ran and fought and pushed to get her friends to safety but she failed and the ground was gone and coming up at the same time and her mark exploded and there was so much green light and… she had led them into the Fade. Was it better than being dead, splattered across the sands? That really depended on whether they made it out.

Eliya was quiet as her companions put words to the fear and strangeness that surrounded them. She weathered the anger between Hawke and Stroud as they learnt even more of the Wardens deadly folly. She looked on her past self as the memories of the events that started all this were restored, and said almost nothing. As the Nightmare put her deepest fears into words and the  brought them into life, she bore it all, with the same clarity that she had found in fighting: push forward. _Don't stop to think. Don't let it catch up to you. None of this matters unless you get them all out._

But she didn't. Stroud stayed behind, sacrificing himself for them. Eliya stepped out of the rift and sent the demons back into the Fade. The soldiers rallied and the fortress was won. They cheered for her, but she wasn't the hero.

Fury and fear and sadness boiled beneath her skin but Eliya still gave the Wardens their chance for redemption, in the name of what Stroud had done. In the hope of some sanity finally making its way into the world. Over and over she pressed her thumbnail into the pads on her fingertips, holding on, trying to keep pushing forward, to see the essential things taken care of. So many questions, so many people who wanted her advice and direction on what to do next. So many congratulations and praise for what she had achieved.

Eventually she interrupted whomever had been talking to her with a clipped, “Excuse me.” She walked calmly out of the courtyard until she found a quiet corner, out of the way, and pressed her palms and forehead against the cool stone walls.

_Why am I here. There's nothing I can do. So many people looking to me as a leader but I'm not… I can't fix this. How many more times will I fail? Who will pay the price?_

Her hand with the anchor ached, more so than it usually did. Eliya smashed her fist  into the walls, breaking the skin across her knuckles and jarring the bones to add to the pain.

She didn't realise Varric had followed her until she heard his deep voice. “Hey Sunflower. How are you doing?”

Eliya opened one eye and looked at him sideways. “Sunflower? Really?”

Varric chuckled. “Yep. Just settled on it, I've been trying to come up with a good one for a while. I picked it because of all your yellow hair. And you're such an optimist - always turning to face the sun.”

“I don't feel very optimistic right now, Varric.”

“I noticed. Do you want to talk about it?”

Eliya shook her head. She was just barely keeping the tempest inside her down - trying to put it into words would make her lose her grip.

“Fair enough. Do you feel like listening then? I could tell you a story,” he suggested.

“That’d be nice,” she answered wearily.

“Did I ever tell you about the time when Hawke…”

Eliya let Varric’s words flow into her until everything else began to ebb and float away. There was no fighting the fact that the world right now was completely messed up. But in between the lines of Varric’s story Eliya remembered that she wasn’t the first person to find themselves in the midst of what felt like the world ending, and somehow in a position to try and put a stop to it.

Eventually Blackwall came to find them and say that some tents had been set up in one of the lower courtyards for them to get some rest while the rest of the fortress was properly scouted and cleared. Eliya didn’t think she would be able to sleep, but exhaustion soon got the better of her and she fell into fitful unconsciousness, reliving the nightmare again.

\---

  
Eliya woke with a start, covered in sweat and shaking. Just then, the canvas of her tent felt like the encroaching walls of a cage so she quickly scrambled out of her bedroll and out into the night air. She threw her head back to stare up at the stars, so very bright and clear on this cloudless night out in the desert. With a few deep breaths she felt her heart begin to slow and the fear in her mind subside.   
  
It was only when she heard quiet clearing of a throat nearby that she remembered she wasn't alone. "Are you alright, Inquisitor?" Came Cullen's quiet voice from over near the battlements.   
  
"Looks like I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep," said Eliya, wandering over to him.   
  
"I haven't even tried yet. Still trying to make sure the area is completely secure," Cullen admitted, rubbing his brow wearily.   
  
"We have guards out, surely? You really ought to get some rest," Eliya replied with concern.   
  
"No, it's fine, don't worry about me. Are you alright? I thought I heard you in some distress but I... I didn't want to pry."   
  
Perhaps it was the genuine concern in his voice, or the lingering remnants of her dream, but Eliya's eyes prickled with tears. She felt foolish and ducked her head, but Cullen had already noticed.   
  
"I'm sorry, Inquisitor, I didn't mean to - Maker's Breath, please don't cry." He stammered, clearly unsure how to react. He tentatively placed one hand on Eliya's shoulder to comfort her. Before she really knew what she was doing Eliya moved into his arms, pressing her face against his chest armour and wrapping her arms around his waist.   
  
Though he must have been surprised, Eliya was grateful that he didn't pull away. Instead he held her gently, arms encircling her small form as she sobbed - he even pressed his cheek against the top of her head.   
  
She realised this was a dramatic difference from their usually non-contact relationship; she had observed that Cullen seemed quite uncomfortable with physical affection and had always sought to respect that - with the exception of the massage she had given him. That was purely for medical reasons though - or so she told herself. But in this moment what she needed was an actual shoulder to cry on, and she felt deeply comforted by Cullen's solid, quiet form.   
  
"Don't take this the wrong way, Cullen, but you'd be much more cuddly without all that armour," she said in a wry voice, muffled by the chest plate itself.   
  
Cullen chuckled and took it as a sign to let go; she stepped back and wiped her face with her sleeve.   
  
"I'd offer you a handkerchief, but mine is currently covered in blood wrapped around a soldier's leg." He remarked, and Eliya laughed too. "I'm sorry to have upset you."   
  
"No, don't feel bad, it isn't your fault Cullen. I'm just - ugh - this was just a very difficult day."   
  
"Of course it was - you went through a serious ordeal. But please - Eliya - you have to know that you did an incredible job. We wouldn't have made it without you."   
  
She made a noise of disagreement, her face contorted as she tried to stem her tears.   
He meant well, she knew, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't been enough.   
  
"This might sound wrong, but Haven was easier. There at least I was able to go out and do something.  Watching all those soldiers fall on the walls made me feel so _insignificant._ And leaving Stroud behind... I've never walked away from a fight like that before, knowing someone would die. Damn it, it should have been me who stayed. Or I should have found a way to get us all out. I feel like such a failure."   
  
Cullen frowned. "Frankly, that's ridiculous. You're the Inquisitor, we need you. Stroud was a good man but he was also a Warden - going out fighting a demon and sparing all your lives is just about the best end he could have hoped for. The men who fell in battle did so because they believed our cause was worth it. But you - you put yourself in harms way enough of the time without having it in your head that it must always be you that makes the sacrifices."   
  
Eliya smiled sadly. "That's just it though, Cullen. It does have to be me. I’m the only one who couldn’t get out of this if I tried - that’s what this anchor really is. It’s what’s keeping me tied to all of this, the reason I am the Inquisitor - the only reason you really need me. Without that, I'm nothing - just a Dalish mage who got in the way of bigger plans. You can command our armies, Josie can handle the diplomacy, Leliana learns everyone's secrets. It's my _job_ to be the one that gets in harm’s way. It's my job to close the rifts and stop Corypheus. And when the day comes that someone needs to stand before him - even with an army at their back, even if it means dying in the effort - and bring him down, it's going to be me. I just hope I'm enough."   
  
She knew she was being maudlin, could see in his eyes that he didn't know how to respond. She shouldn't have poured all her anxieties on him like that - the gods knew he had enough troubles of his own. The two of them stood in silence for a time, side by side, staring out at the endless sand and stars of the approach. The remaining terror of Eliya's dreams soon faded in the calm of silence and companionship.   
  
Eliya knew she was attracted to Cullen - physically and emotionally. She treasured the friendship that had grown between them, but now she realised, she was dangerously close to really loving him. And as she thought about the fears she had just shared, she consodered that it might have been her way of trying to protect them both from what that love might mean. All other barriers notwithstanding, right now she wore her isolation as an armour. If she must die, she wished to leave as little pain as possible. Friends might mourn her, but be comforted in each other. To love Cullen, and let him love her in return, would open them both up to a new world of heartache in the face of what seemed like inevitable death.   
  
She yawned and turned back towards her tent. "Thanks Cullen. I'm - I'm sorry to be so morbid. Hopefully a good night's rest will help. Goodnight."   
  
She didn’t hear his response, whispered after she had already left.   
  
"Goodnight, Eliya. Know that I'll do anything it takes to keep you safe."   
  
The problem with her plan was simple. He already loved her, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for cuddles. 
> 
> Eliya is a strong person in a lot of ways but she is also insecure and she feels a lot of responsibility for everything so this is all starting to get to her. I considered having her lose control after getting back from the Fade and have that drive the story but I changed my mind - just more internalizing and struggle. Plus she doesn't have a good release mechanism yet ;)


	17. The echoes of my everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Inquisition forces return to Skyhold from the Western Approach, Cullen gets some important advice.
> 
> "“‘Giving her a chance?’ He looks at her like she is the moon and she hung the stars by hand!”"

Cullen and Eliya barely spoke again on the journey back to Skyhold. It wasn't that they avoided each other, more due to their competing duties, but still he hated it.   
  
He was angry at himself for not having a better response to the things she had said that night at Adamant. Internally he had been screaming. She held herself to an impossibly high standard, and every time she worried about not being good enough or being a failure he wanted to shake her and tell her that she was perfect, so much more than this broken world deserved. The thought of losing her was too much to bear and yet he knew that there was truth in her words. His mind also told him that it was another reason why she would never love him or see the possibility of something between them. How could she focus on such things when her life hung in the balance? He chastised himself for wanting to occupy that space in her mind, for wishing that he might give her a reason to be safe and someone to come home to. He had no right to want such things from her when the fate of the world rested on her shoulders.   
  
The best thing he could do was help her, in whatever way she needed. He would see it as his duty and honour to serve the woman he loved, even if she never shared his regard. It was a privilege just to know her, to be her friend, to be by her side.   
  
Still, he couldn't stop himself from watching her now and then. He was always conscious of where she was, who she was with, what mood she seemed to be in. Sometimes if he saw her looking worried or sad, he felt the urge to go over and try to make her feel better. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to hold her again, like he did at Adamant.    
  
They were a day or so out from Skyhold when Hawke and Varric pulled their horses up to ride alongside him. Eliya was a little way ahead, with some of the scouts and Blackwall. They were laughing, and he was happy watching how the wind caught at her hair and the way she stretched and squirmed in the saddle, tired after so many days of travel. Unfortunately for him, he was wearing a rather foolish grin - something Varric seemed to have noticed. He and Hawke pulled their horses up to ride alongside him.   
  


“You know Cullen, for a man who doesn’t like mages you certainly seem stuck working alongside them a lot. First me in Kirkwall, and now the Inquisitor - how ever do you bear it?” Hawke asked with an air of mischief. 

Cullen frowned in response. His interactions with Hawke would always be charged because of the memories of everything that happened in Kirkwall, and the role they both played. He was afraid of what she thought of him. He was afraid that she would try to turn Eliya against him as some kind of justice. But he didn't want Hawke as an enemy - in fact he never had. 

“I don’t dislike mages, Hawke. I've seen the suffering that blood mages and abominations can cause, and I will forever be wary of magical power because of it. But I've also seen the other side and I know now that my past actions have been not only unjust, but often cruel. I regret it, Hawke. I ought to have seen Meredith for what she was far sooner,” he replied with a sigh.  Hawke raised her eyebrows. 

“Told you,” Varric cut in smugly.

“Well, that was easier than I expected. Varric's been telling me all about how much you've changed. I'm glad - I always thought you had a little more humanity in you than some of the others. Just a lot of baggage too.” Hawke opined, and Cullen didn't know how to respond. After a moment, he heard something he wasn't expecting. 

“There are things I ought to apologise for as well. What happened with the chantry… it was wrong.”

“Yet you let Anders go unpunished?”

Hawke met Cullen's eyes squarely. “I wouldn't take the life of my friend. And I understand what drove him to it, even if I think it was wrong. Kirkwall was fucked up on so many levels. I don't think anyone got out of that city with a clean slate. Killing Anders wouldn't have fixed what he did, just as blowing up that building didn't fix what was done to him and the other mages. At some point you've got to stop taking revenge before everyone is dead.”

Cullen nodded. His eyes scanned the path ahead and found Eliya again - to his surprise, she was looking back at him. They both smiled at the same time, before Eliya was distracted by someone off to her left.

What Hawke had said - that was why Eliya was such a perfect leader for the Inquisition. Before the conclave she had been completely detached from the events that had rocked Thedas, and she was the consummate peacemaker. Always willing to forgive and set aside. 

Hawke caught where he was looking. “If you're thinking that she's perfect for this, I'd tend to agree. She's gracious without being soft, and sharp as a tack too. You're lucky to have her. I just hope she doesn't get worn down and broken with all the shit that's going to end up flung her way.”

“She won't,” Cullen and Varric said in unison, which made Hawke laugh. 

“You know, a few years ago if someone told me this would happen, I'd have thought they were insane,” Hawke remarked.

“What - that you'd be riding to an ancient elven fortress with the Inquisition after fighting corrupted Grey Wardens in the Western Approach?” Cullen replied.

“No, not that actually. Stranger things happened in Kirkwall, I wouldn't have bet against something like this. What I meant was I never thought I'd see the day when former Knight-Captain Cullen was hopelessly in love with a mage.” 

“I'm not… why would you think… I have great respect for the Inquisitor, that's all - certainly nothing  _ more…”  _ Cullen spluttered, but Hawke and Varric just laughed again. He let out a resigned sigh. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone but Eliya, yeah. I'm proud of you, Curly - glad you took my advice about giving her a chance seriously,” Varric replied. 

“‘Giving her a chance?’ He looks at her like she is the moon and she hung the stars by hand!” Hawke added.

Cullen frowned and Hawke clapped him on the shoulders. “Don't be ashamed, man. It's the most humanising thing I've ever seen you do. Embrace it.”

“Regardless of how I might feel, there… isn't any hope for anything between us. She would never see me in that way.”  
  
Again, Hawke scoffed. “Did you forget who you are talking to, Cullen? The love of my life is an escaped Tevinter slave with a deep-seated hatred for mages. Love doesn't abide by your rules… and thank the Maker for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but GUYS I just finished chapter 19 and am working on 20.... eee there is some stuff I am really proud of.  
> Will have Ch.18 up before the weekend is out :) Thanks as always for reading!


	18. Pretending I'm not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Skyhold, Eliya and Iron Bull find a new way to deal with what they experienced in the Fade. 
> 
> ""We're just blowing off some steam through a friendly game of 'kicking the Inquisitor's ass'.” Bull explained.
> 
> “Come have a go - or are you scared I'll beat you?” Eliya taunted playfully."

“So… we're working out your issues with a stick?” Eliya asked the Iron Bull, examining said object in her hands.

“Less talking, more hitting!” he commanded. Eliya shrugged and did as she was asked, landing a good blow across his chest. 

"You know what Bull, not that I'm saying I want you to beat me with a stick, but there is definitely something in this whole idea. Physical exertion, a little bit of  _ violence _ to work out your issues."   
  
"Best cure for anything is to smash the shit out of something," Bull said in agreement.    
  
"Want to show me how to use one of your giant-ass axes?"   
  
"Don't take this the wrong way Boss - you're  a trooper but if you tried to swing my axe you'd fall on your ass."   
  
Eliya laughed. "Okay. Show me how to use a regular sword then!"   
  
That was how Eliya ended up in the muddy training pits, surrounded by Bull, Blackwall, Sera, half the Chargers and a very bemused Cassandra. She had fought Bull a few times before it became immediately clear that they were very unfairly matched, and since then had worked her way through a string of other opponents. She was losing to all of them, but she did think she was getting a little better. She had resisted the temptation at every turn to use any of her magic. Part of wielding a staff was knowing how to block, hit and stab with it, but mages tended to fight further away from the bulk of the action. She was enjoying the exertion, the way her muscles were aching and the jolting pain from where blows had landed.    
  
She laughed as a well-executed shove from Cassandra’s shield sent her tumbling down into the mud, and again when her friend gasped and ran forward to help her up. "I'm fine Cass, really. Good hit!"   
  
"Enjoying yourself?" came a critical voice on her left. She glanced over to see Solas watching from well behind the fence. "I certainly am," she replied with a smile.   
  
"I never thought of you as someone who'd find satisfaction in this kind of brutishness," he said, not with malice but certainly an element of disdain.    
  
Eliya rolled her eyes. "Lighten up Solas, it's not like I plan to abandon diplomacy and thoughtfulness altogether and solve everything with a wrestling match from now on. A person can have varied interests, you know!"   
  
That made Solas chuckle. "Forgive me. I hope you won't be too offended if I refrain from stepping in there with you myself."   
  
"If anyone needs to get in there, it's you Chuckles. Right now our lovely Inquisitor is reminding people how normal and not-holier-than-thou she is - you could stand to do the same," Varric contributed.    
  
"A tempting offer. It's still a no from me," Solas replied.    
  
"I'll have another go!" Blackwall practically roared with enthusiasm, and Eliya winced.    
  
"Fine. But no weapons this time - hand to hand."   
  
"That's not fair, I can't punch a woman like you in the face."   
  
"Punch her in the tits instead," Sera cackled, perched on the fence railing. Sneakily Varric reached out and gave her a push, sending her hurtling down into the grass.    
  
"You can't punch me but you'll whack me with a sword? Come on - if I fight another woman like this your minds will all go to the gutter."    
  
Blackwall acquiesced, and while Eliya managed to get a few good shots in it still ended with her knees down in the mud.    
  
"Okay, I think I'm done. Unless someone else wants to kick my ass? Got any long held grudges that need working out?" she proclaimed, and spotted a new face hovering anxiously at the edge of the crowd.   
  
"Commander Cullen! Care for a round?" She asked with a grin. He blushed furiously in response.   
  
"No! I couldn't - what are you even doing?" he blustered.   
  
"We're just blowing off some steam through a friendly game of 'kicking the Inquisitor's ass'.” Bull explained. 

“Come have a go - or are you scared I'll beat you?” Eliya taunted playfully.

Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Hardly. Just promise you won't set me on fire when I get you on your back.” 

Eliya laughed and Cullen suddenly went bright red as he realised what he had said. “Oh, Andraste, I didn't mean…” 

“Just get in the ring, Commander,” Iron Bull barked and their little crowd parted to let Cullen pass. 

Eliya began to circle him with a wicked grin on her face as he removed his outer armour and rested it safely against the fence and out of the mud. Then he turned to face her with a bemused expression. Before he had the chance to plan his attack, Eliya had darted forwards and landed two good hits to his ribs. Then she was out of his reach again. 

“Nicely done. But you can't dance around me forever,” Cullen complimented her, the patience of a teacher in his voice.

“Oh really?” she quipped back, trying to g.et in close again but narrowly missing his right hook as it came sweeping around. “You might be big and tough but I'm quick,” she added.

“And how has that served you against Blackwall and Iron Bull?” he countered, lazily avoiding her next attack.

She tried bravely to get at his back but he was too well trained - he grabbed her by both forearms and held her at arms length away. She kicked out at his knees instead, and while one foot connected with her goal, it was at the expense of her balance. Cullen swept his leg under hers and she went tumbling to the ground. 

“Okay, I've had enough,” she resolved, feeling the mud soaking into her hair. Cullen offered her his hand to get up, wearing a very smug smile. Eliya accepted it - but instead of being pulled up, she surprised Cullen and pulled him down, rolling out of the way to avoid being crushed. Their gathered crowd laughed, and after a moment Cullen did too.

“It seems the lady is a sore loser,” he remarked dryly, moving to stand up again. 

“Nonsense. That was me congratulating you on your victory.”

“I'll keep that in mind next time you have a triumph worth celebrating.”

“Are you saying you like your rewards to be  _ dirty,  _ Boss?” Iron Bull asked lewdly, and Eliya shoved him playfully as she passed. 

“Shut it. Thanks for the pain therapy idea, Bull, but I think I'll go back to bottling it all up for now.”

“Anytime, Boss. Blackwall - let's see who really deserves to be the right hand man, hey?” the qunari shouted in a friendly challenge. The two warriors prepared to face off as Eliya headed back towards her quarters. Solas’ eyes watched her path, but Cullen followed a pace behind until Eliya smiled at him over her shoulder, indicating that his company was welcome.

“You aren't hurt, are you?” he asked worriedly.

“I'm fine Cullen. Or at least, I'm no more hurt than I intended to be. You don't face off against the Iron Bull and Cassandra without getting a little bit sore. _Fenedhis_ , I can't wait for a bath.” 

“How ever did you manage before Skyhold? I can't imagine you'd fit a tub onto an aravel.”

Eliya snorted. “That would be a challenge. No, I'd normally just bathe in a lake or a stream or something. The water is much colder though, and I can hardly use magic to warm up a whole lake.”

Cullen didn't reply, and when Eliya glanced over she saw his expression was mildly dazed and wide-eyed, and a tinge of blush was creeping behind his ears. Eliya smiled internally - she'd bet almost anything that he was picturing her naked and bathing in a stream.  _ Maybe he isn't entirely uninterested in me.  _

“Did I break you with tales of my savage lifestyle, Commander?” 

Cullen began to choke and splutter, before he caught the playful look on her face and managed to calm himself.

“I - uh - should leave you to your business. I have work to do.” he replied awkwardly. Eliya wondered if he would combust on the spot if she asked him to join her for a bath. More likely she'd scare him away and make things more complicated between them.

“Of course you do, Cullen,” she replied resignedly instead. “Until next time, then.”

\---

Once the maids had brought up the water for her bath, Eliya sat and soaked for a long time. She kept the water hot to ease the aches across her body, but couldn't get rid of the tension in her mind. She was starting to feel thin, stretched. Like soon pieces of her would begin to break away and everything she was holding in would break through. She needed something to feel good about. 

“Are you decent?” 

It was Dorian's voice calling from her staircase. 

“No, but like you really care,” Eliya answered.

“How right you are.”

Dorian wandered in and patted her wet hair gently. “Feeling better? I was watching your little fight club from afar. Interesting choice for physical exertion - I can think of much more enjoyable ways to wrestle with some big burly men.”

Dorian jumped backwards and cursed in Tevene as Eliya splashed him. “Careful now. I could electrocute you in that bathtub. And then I'd steal your room and that great big comfortable bed.”

“You can enjoy my bed whenever you like Dorian.”

“Oh, if only the maids had heard that! Whilst I appreciate the offer, sharing a bed with you would distinctly limit my options for other bedfellows.”

“Finally warming to all of the Iron Bull's innuendo then?” 

“ _ Vishante kaffas,  _ woman, I'll have you know that there are  _ many  _ other options available to me than just the qunari brute. Besides, he flirts with everyone.”

“Yeah, well at least you know he'd be willing.”

“Whereas you are still deluded into thinking Cullen isn't?”

Eliya looked up at Dorian, who glared back sternly. 

“What if I told you that maybe there is the smallest chance that he would be interested...  but now  _ I  _ don't know if it is a good idea.” she replied timidly. 

Before Dorian had a chance to respond, Eliya took a deep breath and shifted to slide her whole head under the water. Eyes open, she could see Dorian's distorted figure above her.  _ He's going to tell me I'm being stupid. Maybe I am. Fenedhis, I wish I could stay underwater forever.  _

When she ran out of air, Eliya burst back above the waterline, gasping.

“Hardly a practical plan, trying to hide from me underwater, where I can see you, in a tin bathtub.” Dorian remarked dryly.

“Maybe I just want to hide from everything.”

“I wouldn't blame you. But I know you won't. You’re too decent and honourable and responsible to just walk away. Which is great for us - but unfortunate for you.”

Eliya groaned. “I know. So isn't that maybe a reason why I shouldn't get involved with Cullen?”

“Why would it be?”

“Because I'm not going to step back from this, I'll give it everything I have to. Even so, there is a real chance it won't end well…” she paused for a moment before finishing her thought. “I'm falling in love with him, like real, proper love. But I don't want to be - I don't want to hurt him and I  _ know  _ I'm going to hurt him. I'm going to die, Dorian. And I'll have to leave him behind.”

He sighed and knelt down beside the bathtub, water soaking into the knees of his pants. “Everyone dies, Eliya. It's the only guaranteed thing in life. You can't let that stop you from living. You have to take hold of the things that make you happy while you have the chance because otherwise you might as well be dead already.”

She pressed her forehead against his, letting a few tears leak out to mingle with the water dripping down her face. 

“You're the only real friend I have, Eliya. I'm here for you, whatever you need.” 

“Thanks, Dorian. Right now I need wine and food and cuddles.”

“Ask and you shall receive. I'll be back right away - you get yourself dried off and we'll enjoy that wonderful bed of yours.”

  
Eliya stepped out of the bathtub, put one foot in front of the other and moved forward. She did the same thing getting out of bed the next morning and again the day after that. With each step she moved further away from that waking nightmare and back towards hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst. The good news is, we are *so close* to them sorting themselves out. I promise you good news within the next five chapters! Thanks as always for reading and leaving kudos, it always makes my day :)


	19. Worth celebrating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Eliya's birthday which gives everyone the excuse to have a little too much to drink - and for Cullen to get a little bit closer to the Inquisitor.
> 
> ""Are you asking me to come to your birthday party, Inquisitor?" He teased, smirking.
> 
> She smiled in return, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I am!"
> 
> "I'd love to.""

"Commander, I have to ask a favour of you. I was having a conversation with Josie earlier and she said something about how I had a lot of responsibility as first to my clan's keeper from such a young age and now being the Inquisitor at just 22. I corrected her and said 'well 23 now' and she was all shocked and said 'when did you turn 23' and I said 'today actually' and then she got mad at me for not telling her earlier. Birthdays aren't a big deal for the Dalish so I didn’t think much of it, I only remembered because she was talking about my age. But she was annoyed because now she doesn't have time to plan a big party, especially with us heading out again in two days. So I compromised and said we could all get together in the Herald's Rest tonight and have a drink. So will you come?"  
  
It took Cullen a moment to process all that she had just said - normally she was so calm and measured with her words, compared to the stream of consciousness she had just unleashed. He wondered whether she was nervous, excited or just in a particularly good mood - regardless, he smiled inwardly at the way she waved her hands and tried to mimic Josephine's accent for the purpose of her story.   
  
He had never really thought about how old she was before this - he knew she was quite young, but 23 made her almost ten years younger than him. Another reason to add to the long list of why he needed to get past his infatuation with her, he thought. And he had to agree with Josephine - she was awfully young to have been thrown into this mess. So had he been at Fereldan's Circle, and it had tainted so much of his life from then onwards. With that mark on her hand and Corypheus after her, how many more birthdays might she see? The thought formed a dark weight at the pit of his stomach, a nice addition to the ache in his head. Still, she was looking up at him so expectantly, and if he was honest, he would do just about anything to please her.   
  
"Are you asking me to come to your birthday party, Inquisitor?" He teased, smirking.   
  
She smiled in return, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I am!"   
  
"I'd love to."   
  
"Great! Just - one more thing. Don't wear all that armour, okay?" She suggested, rapping her knuckles on his shoulder pauldrons.   
  
"What should I wear, then?"   
  
"Anything - just - be yourself, be comfortable. I think it'll be fun. I'll see you later tonight okay?" She was heading back towards the door, and he scrambled for something else to say so that she might keep speaking with him a little while longer. Sadly he came up short, and watched her run off down the walkway to the keep with a bit of a spring in her step.   
  
So. No armour, then. He was sure he had a clean shirt somewhere, and and appropriate pair of trousers. He went back to his work with a smile, looking forward to the evening ahead.   


\---

  
It was growing dark by the time he headed down to the Herald's Rest, feeling odd without his usual armour and cloak. It was a nice night though, and judging by the noise the party had already started. He hadn't wanted to get there early and seem too eager or as though he wasn't busy. As he stepped through the tavern door, it seemed he was almost the last person in all of Skyhold to show up.   
  
He noted a few soldiers that did a double take and spilled their drinks as he walked past, but tried to focus on finding the Inquisitor. Maker, this was going to be excruciating - he was not one for parties, let alone rowdy ones in taverns full of people he had to work with. Then again, ever since he had become a templar almost everyone he knew was someone he worked with.   
  
Someone clapped a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Blackwall with three mugs of beer in his other hand. "Commander! After a drink?"

"If you're offering, that'd be welcome," Cullen responded, liberating one of the three from Blackwalls grasp.  
  
"Lucky for us Lady Josephine said the Inquisition is buying," Blackwall said jovially. "To celebrate the Inquisitors Birthday appropriately. I think she's underestimating just how much the Iron Bull and Sera can drink though, mind. Not to mention Dorian - he knows how to put it away and he favours the expensive stuff. There'll be plenty of headaches in the morning, I wager."   
  
Cullen laughed along awkwardly and took a deep drink of his ale. He was still trying to spot where Eliya was amongst the crowd, but couldn't find a trace of her golden hair nor any other members of her inner circle.   
  
"Did you want to greet the lady of the hour herself,  Commander? She's at a table upstairs - I'm heading back there myself," Blackwall offered.   
  
"Yes, I suppose I ought to do that," Cullen responded, trying to feign nonchalance and doing a poor job of it.   
  
Blackwall led him to the central staircase, chatting genially.   
  
"You ought to see the blade the Inquisitor and I found on our last mission - a massive two-handed greatsword, the thing almost weighs more than she does. Made out of fade-touched Veridium- it's fucking beautiful. You should ask her to find something for yourself - she's got a good eye for that kind of thing, our Inquisitor."   
  
"Is there anything she isn't good at?" He asked jokingly, and Blackwall chuckled.   
  
"You haven't been on the road with her enough, Commander," Blackwall replied as they reached the second landing. "I'll tell you this for free; she's an awful singer."   
  
"Commander Cullen, you came!"   
  
Cullen looked up to see the Inquisitor and most of her inner circle sitting around a long table. Eliya was beaming, clutching a tankard as large as Iron Bull's and with a very pretty wreath of flowers in her hair. She was wearing a dark pair of breeches and a light blue blouse, different to her usual clothing but not fancy. Cullen was glad to see everyone was as casual as he was. "Here I am," Cullen responded as they approached the table, smirking at Blackwalls revelation. Eliya's eyes narrowed and darted between them.   
  
"What has the Grey Warden been telling you?" She asked with suspicion.   
  
"I've just been informing Commander Cullen here that if he ever needs a creative way to punish a prisoner, he could just make them listen to your singing for a few hours," Blackwall announced, and was met with a roar of laughter from all the companions.   
  
"I'm not that bad!" Eliya protested, but she was laughing too.   
  
"Oh, please, you really are," Dorian chimed in from beside her. "I can never decide whether your wailing will attract predators or drive them away.”   
  
"She sang the same damn song from a tavern in Val Royeaux all the way to the Storm Coast. I made an oath that day - if I ever go back to that city I'm going to skewer that minstrel!" added Varric.   
  
"Well I won't be taking you next time I visit then, will I?" Eliya retorted. "Besides, you're all foolish - now I have something I know you all hate,  I can threaten you with it! You'll never argue with me again!"   
  
"You've still got a problem there, Boss. Try to make me listen to you sing and I'll throw you in the horse troughs outside," Bull countered.   
  
Cullen was still standing, and amidst the banter he was having a silent crisis about where to sit. Blackwall had moved to the opposite side of the table, where an empty seat lay between Sera and Cole. There were two other spots available - one between Seeker Cassandra and Dorian on Eliya's left, or the seat directly on her right. He didn't want to seem too eager, but the chair was free and it was her birthday, so not taking it would be just as conspicuous. In his last moment of hesitation Eliya spoke to catch his attention.   
  
"Come sit here by me, Commander. At least you aren't making fun of me!" She said, with mock annoyance at her table of friends.   
  
"I wouldn't dream of it," Cullen replied quietly as he settled beside her, trying not to broadcast his glee. "Happy Birthday, by the way."   
  
"Thank you! It's really been a very nice day. A good break amongst all the crap, hey? I can see why you sh- humans- celebrate it like this. You don't have to have done anything particularly special, it's just 'hey, we like you and we're glad you were born!'"   
  
Cullen laughed. "That is essentially the idea. What do the Dalish celebrate?"   
  
"Oh, mostly things to do with the Gods. If it's about an individual person, normally its marking their first hunt, or getting their vallaslin, or something like that. But the Dalish know how to throw a party! The hunters will bring in something huge and we'll have a big feast that lasts for days and lots of music and contests and dancing!"   
  
"So you like to dance?" Cullen inquired.   
  
"I love to! Almost as much as I like singing," she replied, addressing the aside to Dorian. He flung his arm over her shoulder, and responded with an air of consolation.   
  
"Alas, passion does not always equal talent, my dear. Though I haven't seen you dance yet - in fact, I'm not sure I've ever really seen Dalish dancing before. What does it look like?"   
  
"Get me drunk enough and I'll show you!" She exclaimed, clinking her heavy flagon against Dorian's wine goblet. She took a deep drink and then turned back to Cullen.   
  
"You even left your armour and cloak behind for me! How does it feel?"   
  
"A little odd, I'll admit, but I wasn't born wearing it. Do you dislike my usual outfit?"   
  
"Yes!" Dorian called out, but Eliya shushed him.   
  
"No, you look perfect for the Commander of the Inquisition's forces. Very dashing and formidable, really. It's just a little too formal for a party - you've got to let people see you relax sometimes." She responded kindly.   
  
"You're very good at that. I'll have to take notes. The flowers in your hair are pretty," he added bravely, and she beamed in response.   
  
"Thank you, Cullen! Though I'm not sure a flower crown is the right look for you. I'd hate to cover up your carefully styled golden waves," she teased.   
  
"I do not style my hair!" He protested, making Varric snort with derision.   
  
"You're not fooling me, Cullen. I remember what your hair looked like when we first met in Kirkwall. There's a reason I call you Curly!"   
  
After that Cullen contented himself in listening to the others talk, adding an occasional comment here are there but mostly enjoying how close he was to Eliya. She was animated when she spoke, so now and then her thigh would brush against his, or she'd nudge him with her elbow. It was, he thought, quite pathetic how excited that made him, but he couldn't deny that it did.   
  
The night went on and Cullen drank a little, but kept himself in a respectable state as some of his companions progressed into considerable drunkeness. He noted that while Eliya had a very large tankard, she actually drank quite slowly and only refilled once or twice. She was a small woman though, so it was a wise move. Particularly after the results of her last night of drinking.

“... and _that_ was the worst day of my entire life,” Varric finished his story, puffing out his chest.

“Tha’s pathetic. I've had days _ten times_ as bad,” Sera slurred.

“Me too,” Iron Bull added, jabbing at one of the jagged scars that crossed his chest. “The day I got this was _fucked up_ from start to finish.”

“Did you lose a fight?” Cassandra asked with mild interest. Bull turned to her, his eyes wide.

“Fuck no! Absolutely _obliterated_ them. But when someone slices you down to the bone, you tend to feel it.”

“I've got a worse one,” Eliya said in a low voice, but everyone heard her and stopped talking. Cullen took a breath, unsure of what he was about to hear.

“It was just after I joined Clan Lavellan. My family clan was based in the Free Marches too, but further west, away from the coast. When we made it back to the Lavellan lands, I'd spend hours wandering and exploring all these new places. It was familiar but completely new at the same time, you know? Anyway, one day I was off on my own and needed to - you know, _relieve myself._ So I found a private place and took care of business and found a handful of these big green leaves to clean myself up. They looked just like the green leaves I was used to in the Thirainduel lands. But I would later find out they had jagged edges, instead of rounded ones - which was a fairly crucial difference. I was just getting back to the Clan when my palms started itching. Then… you get the picture. The leaves were poison, like a kind of rashvine. And I'd rubbed them _all over my business._ Gods, it was almost a full week of total agony, I could barely walk. And as much as Deshanna tried to keep my secret it got out pretty quickly so I was just the weird new girl with the blisters on her crotch.”

Everyone had been listening in stunned silence, and it lingered for a moment before Josephine of all people burst out in raucous laughter. Soon everyone was falling out of their seats and Eliya turned to Cullen, her cheeks flushed. They giggled together, and Cullen wondered how she would react if he reached out and squeezed her hand, or her knee…

“That might have been the worst day, but today - tonight has been the best. I've never had friends like you all before. Never had so many people I cared about, coming together to laugh and drink and celebrate... it means the world to me,” she added, her voice full of joy and awe. Eliya reached one hand out to squeeze Dorian on the shoulder, and with the other she lightly patted Cullen's knee as she beamed around the table at her friends. It only took a second before Cullen placed own large hand over hers, his thumb brushing across her knuckles lightly.

“Eurghhhh, Eliy-aly-aly, that's so mushy,” Sera blurted.

To everyone's surprise, Iron Bull pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet.

“Nice words, Boss. Sounds like my cue to give you your birthday present,” he announced gruffly. Cullen could tell from the confusion on Josephine's face that this was not an officially sanctioned gift.

Eliya barely had the chance to open her mouth when Bull strode across, lifting her out of her seat and swinging her over his shoulder. She let out a squeal and slapped his broad back, but the qunari paid no mind and headed for the staircase.

“What _exactly_ is this gift?” Cassandra called out sternly.

“She's getting soft. So I'm giving her the gift of hardening the fuck up - our Inquisitor has a birthday date with the water troughs.”

Eliya's squirming and protestations as Bull carted her out of the Herald's Rest were made with laughter, so none of her companions put up more than a halfhearted fight to stop it. Most of them followed her out, leaving Cullen at the table with Cassandra. He was torn between utter glee that he had been _holding her hand_ just moments before - and sadness that it had been so brief. Cullen sighed, bade Cassandra a good night and headed downstairs to return to his quarters. The base level of the tavern was now much emptier - it seemed a lot of people had followed Eliya and the Iron Bull out. Cullen hoped that if the qunari did dunk Eliya underwater, she would at least have chance to get him back while the crowd was watching.

People began returning to the Herald’s Rest as Cullen crossed the yard of the keep. Obviously the sport had been short lived. He spied Eliya, dripping wet and laughing raucously as the mercenaries Krem and Dalish patted her on the back. Cullen stopped in his tracks, his breath stolen by the way her sodden clothing clung to the shape of her body, the glow of her pale skin in the moonlight, the sheer beauty of her joy-filled features. He emitted an involuntary groan at just how badly he _wanted_ her. To hold her body in his hands, to kiss every inch of her skin, to make her laugh and smile but also moan and whisper in his ears. Andraste’s mercy, it was like a physical ache in his bones. Here he was, a grown man getting thrills from the brush of her hand against his and staring longingly at her from a distance.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the way she called out and waved to him. It was only when she extricated herself from the others and headed straight for him that he snapped to attention.

“Are you turning in for the night then, Commander?” Eliya asked, running one hand through her wet hair to pull it off her face. Cullen wondered where the flower crown had got to.

“I'm afraid so. I see Bull succeeding in giving you his birthday gift - did you find a way to thank him?” Cullen enquired.

“I certainly did. Krem and a few of the others dunked his head under the water and I managed to freeze a giant iceblock over his horns. I think being cold yourself must make ice magic easier - he could barely lift his head!”

The mental image and his slight intoxication made Cullen laugh much more freely than usual. Eliya was spurred on by his amusement and they giggled together for a few moments, Cullen's heart starting to race as she braced herself with one hand pressed to his chest. Right now she was so close, and they were practically alone - he could grab her by the waist and kiss her so easily… He could even blame the alcohol and apologise if she pushed him away…

There was a charged moment of silence as Eliya's laughter subsided and their eyes met. She was biting the inside of her lip and peering up at him through her pale eyelashes. There was a trickle of her dark eye makeup running down her cheek, amongst the lines of her vallaslin… he could reach out and brush it away with his thumb, trace the lines of her markings as he had so often imagined.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Cullen. I was really glad to have you there with me,” she spoke quietly.

_Kiss her. Kiss her, you idiot! Don't just stand here like a fool, this is your chance, kiss her!_

_“_ The pleasure was mine, Eliya. You are worth celebrating,” he replied slowly.

She swallowed, and his eyes traced movement of her throat, imagining what her skin would feel like against his lips.

_She's right there. You'll never get a better chance than this._

Cullen willed himself to bridge the gap between them. His muscles tensed as he prepared to step forward - but a shout from across the yard made him jump backwards in surprise instead.

“I owe you a drink for that, Boss! You coming back in?”

It was the Iron Bull, chunks of ice still stuck to his horns.

“How did you get the rest off?” Eliya shouted back to him, turning her body away from Cullen. His nerve disappeared and he started to back away.

“Blackwall smashed it with a maul. I'm going to melt what's left. Come on, my head is cold as shit,” Iron Bull demanded.

Cullen watched as Eliya turned back to face him, and thought her face fell when she noticed the distance now between them. He spoke before she could, bidding her a good night, and fled to the fortress wall that led back to his quarters. All the way he tild himself that he was a coward and he didn't deserve her.

  
Eliya lingered behind for a moment, staring at his retreating back, before returning to the tavern and her party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay super long chapter. Hope you like it! There are a few bits that I think are super cute and I got really excited about. Also a slight insight into Cullen's dirty mind. Woohoo.


	20. Could I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen tries to think of a way to show Eliya how he feels, and Eliya gets roped into a situation that will leave her with little choice about telling Cullen the same. 
> 
> ""How about this: we make a bet. If I win, you talk to Cullen. If you win, we all leave you alone about it and let you keep whining." Iron Bull proposed.
> 
> "What would we be betting on?" Eliya inquired.
> 
> "Let's make it whoever brings down the most undead tomorrow. Dorian's trustworthy, he can keep count.""

“I swear, it was the perfect moment. We were alone, he was  _ so close,  _ but still nothing happened. He practically  _ ran  _ away. So that’s it - he’s not interested.” Eliya whined.

“Eliya, did you consider that  _ maybe  _ he was intending to confess his undying love for you in that moment, but was scared off by the Iron Bull's poorly timed interruption?” Dorian argued reasonably. 

“Well, maybe, but… oh, never mind. It's probably shitty of me to be moping about a man when we're stuck in this muddy hellhole and there's a psychotic - whatever word you'd use to describe Corypheus - on the loose who could tear the world apart any day now." Eliya sulked as they set up camp in the least flooded spot they could find. The Exalted Plains had been an endless wave of undead, freemen, mud, rain and general misery. They’d finally made it to the Riverwatch camp, with rocky cliffs at their back and the surging waters of the Enavuris river before them. The rain was light, that misty kind that coated everything and made the world seem blurry.   
  
"Yes. It really is shitty of you," Dorian replied, though without any real malice.   
  
"Whosit that you're moping for? Want me to unleash some bees on them?" Sera chimed in as she returned from double-checking the area, squinting up into the grey sky.   
  
Iron Bull laughed. "Boss is pining for the Commander, but she isn't brave enough to tell him that. Which is a pity, you know, because that guy could really use some action. Might help him unwind."   
  
"Nah, what he could use is some bees."   
  
"Why's that?" inquired Dorian.   
  
"Cause it'd be funny, duh," Sera quipped back.   
  
Eliya laughed. "Well, at least by dragging the three of you here to run about, I'm ensuring you won't get any action either. Even with all this rain, I can still smell the gore of those undead on me. No one is going to want to come near us after this.”   
  
"Speak for yourself." Dorian replied haughtily. Iron Bull clapped Eliya on the back in consolation.    
  
"Don't worry, boss, you can always come to me if you're looking for company."   
  
Sera snorted again. "More like if she wanted to lose the feeling in her legs. How does anyone even walk after?"   
  
"They don't. At least not for a few hours," Bull replied, roaring with laughter.   
  
"Keep it down, you two, or we'll spend all night fighting off more damned undead," Dorian admonished them. "Honestly, Lavellan, I know standing half-drunk and soaking wet in front of the man ought to have worked, but Cullen seems like the type to need things clearly articulated. What's stopping you from just talking to him about it?"   
  
"There's no point, Dorian, it would just make things awkward. We’re friends now but - I'm an elf and a mage and 'The Inquisitor', he wouldn't think of me that way."    
  
"You know, for a woman who spends her time roaming the world, killing dragons and demons, closing rifts and restoring order, you really have woefully low self-esteem," Dorian remarked gently.    
  
"Maybe it would be easier if I was a man, then you and I could have fallen in love."   
  
Dorian laughed. "It's a nice thought, but I wouldn't want to date someone prettier than I am."   
  
"No one's prettier than you, Dorian," grunted Iron Bull, and Sera snickered. "But you're a looker too, Boss - watching you fight is like a mixture of being terrified and turned on."   
  
"Yeah. I hate magic crap more than most people, but it's different when it's you. You're good, and I'll bet Cully thinks so too." Sera chimed in.    
  
"Thanks for the confidence booster, guys, but I'm still not talking to him."   
  
"How about this: we make a bet. If I win, you talk to Cullen. If you win, we all leave you alone about it and let you keep whining." Iron Bull proposed.   
  
"What would we be betting on?" Eliya inquired.   
  
"Let's make it whoever brings down the most undead tomorrow. Dorian's trustworthy, he can keep count."   
  
"Hey!" Sera cried indignantly.    
  
"And if I don't want to take the bet?"    
  
"Then the minute we get back to Skyhold, I'll find the Commander and tell him for you. Only I'll add in lots of nice, graphic details about exactly what you'd like to do with him," Bull explained with a chuckle, and Eliya blushed.   
  
"Fine - deal. But I'm in the mood for fighting already and I doubt very much I'll be more cheerful in the morning - so game on!"

\---

Cullen stood staring at the door to the Inquisitor’s chambers. He knew she wasn’t back from the Exalted Plains yet - each and every day he found himself looking hopefully down at the gates, at her ‘official’ chair, and to this exact spot, hoping to find her there smiling back at him.

Today he had been searching for Josephine instead, and was told that she was in the Inquisitor’s quarters. Cullen knew there could be nothing wrong in him going up there to meet the Ambassador - but still. He had only been in those rooms once before, when he brought her up to sleep that night.

Finally he rolled his shoulders back and pushed through the door, immediately hearing Josephine’s voice chattering away at the top of the stairs. “Lady Montilyet, do you have a moment? I need to discuss-” Cullen called out, but was interrupted.

“Oh, Commander, come up here, you can help us decide!” Josephine invited him.

With a sigh, Cullen trudged up the stairs into the warm afternoon light that shone through the Inquisitor’s large windows. Vivienne and Josephine were standing at the foot of the large bed, with an array of brightly coloured fabrics strewn before them.

‘What’s all this?” Cullen asked with trepidation.

“We’re decorating the Inquisitor’s room. The dear thing will never allow us to make her lodgings more  _ comfortable  _ while she is about in Skyhold - but if she comes home and we’ve already done it, she’s too much of a kind heart to protest.” Vivienne replied imperiously.

Cullen looked around the large space - it certainly looked comfortable enough to him, much more so than most of the other rooms in the castle.

“What more can she be in need of?” Cullen ventured.

“She is our Inquisitor - her accommodation must reflect her great importance.” Vivienne responded simply.

Cullen didn’t see the logic in that. Eliya was a simple person, she had lived the Dalish lifestyle, and whilst she seemed to like the fancy dresses Josephine gave her for special events for the most part she was far from materialistic. In fact, as he looked around the room again, he couldn’t spot a single possession that looked like it might be valuable to her. That realisation swiftly turned into something different in Cullen’s mind.

“Where are all of the Inquisitor’s personal belongings?” Cullen directed his question to Josephine, brow furrowed. The Ambassador raised hers in response.

“I do not believe she has any, to speak of. Not beyond her clothing and weapons. Anything she might have had was likely destroyed at the conclave or in the destruction of Haven.”

Josephine’s explanation made sense, but at the same time - Eliya was forever picking up trinkets and gifts for her friends. Cullen had presumed that she did the same for herself - in his mind, her room would be full of small treasures reflecting the many adventures she had. There was none of that here - even the books stacked neatly into the shelves behind her desk seemed like someone else’s, put here to fill a space. 

Vivienne snapped her fingers to regain Cullen’s attention, and he saw she was holding up two large swathes of cloth - one in a bright, regal red and the other in a deep midnight blue.

“What kind of furniture are those for?” Cullen asked, earning an exasperated sigh from Vivienne. 

“These aren't for decorating a  _ room,  _ they are to decorate a  _ person. _ ”

Cullen stared blankly over to Josephine in the hopes of gaining a less patronising explanation.

“The Inquisitor’s gown for Empress Celene’s ball. Which do you think she would prefer? Vivienne and I think the red is very commanding, but -” Josephine began to explain, but Cullen shook his head as he caught on.

“The blue. It’s her favourite colour.”

Both of the ladies looked a little surprised, but accepted his judgement. 

“Now, what was it that you wanted to discuss, Cullen?”

\---

After asking some covert questions, Cullen had discovered that all of Eliya's birthday gifts had been practical ones. Wine from Dorian, apple pies from Sera, a new cloak from Josephine and Leliana, a more powerful rune for her staff from Solas. There was nothing that was just hers to keep, and as foolish as it seemed, the thought bothered Cullen. He didn't have much in the way of possessions himself - just a few books, his chess set, and the coin that Branson had given him. Still, he hadn't gotten Eliya a gift yet - so he decided he would find something that would just be for her to  _ keep.  _

He looked through the small collection of stalls that had sprung up in the lower keep, selling items from all over southern Thedas. Jewellery and perfume seemed far too intimate. He considered a collection of pretty stones, examined a carved wooden box and even thought about getting Eliya her own chess set. Nothing seemed quite right. What kind of gift said, 'I respect you deeply as my superior but I'm also madly in love with you. Your friendship is invaluable and I would very much like to take you to bed?'

Reaching the end of the row, Cullen glanced upwards and noticed Blackwall standing in his barn. The Warden was carving a large block of wood into something - Cullen thought perhaps a griffon. As he watched the man work, it gave him an idea.

“Commander,” Blackwall greeted him as he approached.

“Blackwall,” Cullen acknowledged him in return. “That carving you do - is it difficult to learn?”

Blackwall shrugged. “You'll want to have some skill, or you'll cut yer fingers off. It takes a bit of practice before you can get things to look just as you want them, but otherwise it's not so hard.”

“Could you show me where to get started?”

\---

It was late afternoon, and Eliya had gotten back into Skyhold just after midday. She had negotiated her case with Bull so that she would at least be able to bathe and freshen up before he expected her to go to Cullen's office. Of course she had lost that bloody bet. Now she was going to embarrass herself in front of Cullen and would have to face a walk of shame back here to her room. She had dressed in her usual breeches, shirt and jacket, had brushed out her hair and re-done her braid, and now her eyeliner was finished as well. There was no more point in delaying - but Eliya found herself standing in front of her mirror, just staring.

That was when Dorian arrived - she heard him sigh as he crossed the room. One hand on each of her shoulders, he spoke to her reflection in the mirror. 

“You're a beautiful woman Eliya. Cullen would be a fool to say no to you.”

When Eliya still wasn't convinced, he turned her around to face him. 

“Eliya, Cullen  _ does  _ have feelings for you. I know because he's told me as much himself.”

Eliya's eyebrows rose in surprise. “But… why hasn't  _ he  _ said anything then? When did he tell you? I don't…”

Dorian cut across her. “Go and ask  _ him  _ these questions. He's expecting you to come and report in, Bull has told him you will. I'll sit here and wait until you get back. Be confident, Eliya.”

She nodded and swallowed down her uncertainty. She walked with deliberation towards Cullen's office, waving to Varric as she passed and stopping for a brief chat with Solas. He seemed to notice the way her eyes kept moving to the door she had to walk through, and it displeased him. “Is there somewhere you need to be?” he asked mercurially. 

“Yes, I'm just headed to Cullen's office. To report back on the Exalted Plains.”

  
“Well, I won't keep you then.” Solas dismissed her. She felt a trifle guilty - she hadn't had much time to spend with him of late. She enjoyed their discussions and he always had so much to teach her - but her mind was presently consumed with a question he could not answer. Now the only obstacle left in her path was the large wooden door of Cullen's office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and pushed it open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 'bout that ending guyyysss. I promise to have the next chapter up in a couple of days and I very much hope you will like it. This chapter started out as just the scene with Eliya in the Exalted Plains but I got the idea about Cullen getting Eliya a present and had to run with it :)


	21. Seemed to stop my breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for *that* scene.
> 
> ""Commander! You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."
> 
> He was looking down at the piece of paper in his hands, so he hadn't noticed the Inquisitor. Cullen cursed inwardly as she blushed and looked away from him, shifting on the spot in embarrassment. He had been so close! 
> 
> "What?!" He growled, stepping away and glaring at Jim."

Cullen knew the Inquisitor had gotten back earlier that afternoon, but he hadn’t seen her yet. When Iron Bull came to deliver their reports, he had mentioned that she might come to check in with him later - and he hadn't been able to concentrate properly for hours. 

Once or twice he pulled the small wooden halla out from it's hiding place in his desk drawers. He had worked on it every night since Blackwall showed him how to carve, occasionally taking it back to the Warden for advice and assistance. When he realised what Cullen was making, and for whom, Blackwall had kindly offered to craft it on his behalf. But Cullen found that he enjoyed the work - it helped distract him on lonely nights and kept his hands busy when his withdrawals flared. The end result was a statuette in the shape of a halla that fit in the palm of his large hands. It was far from perfect, but he had made it himself. He hoped she liked it.   
  
He'd missed her even more than usual, and she wove in and out of his dreams each night. Whilst the nightmares of losing her remained, some of the dreams were more pleasant.  It was all in small flashes - details that he'd noted about her that he couldn't erase - didn't want to erase. The way she squinted slightly and pursed her lips when she was reading something. How she waved her hands around as she spoke, and sometimes pressed her fingers to the tattoo on her lips when she was thinking. He liked to think that she had a special type of smile sometimes that she only wore when she spoke to him.   
  
His hopes were not so high - he would give her this gift, see what happened. If it didn't work out he would make himself content with the thought of being her friend, making her happy when he could, protecting and serving her. Even if love was never a possibility, he was and would continue to be glad to have something bright and happy burst into his world of pain, darkness and regret.    
  
He looked up from his desk as he heard a knock, and was rewarded with the vision of Eliya pushing the door open. She was silhouetted by the late afternoon light; it made her golden hair shine like the sun.  _ Makers breath _ , he thought,  _ she is stunning _ . He walked over to greet her, trying to hide his delight. She looked tired but well. She had obviously taken the time to bathe, was wearing the clean, simple outfit that was her uniform when at Skyhold and her hair was still drying. She smelled fresh and sweet, like fruit; he had to restrain himself from taking a deep breath.    
  
"Nice to see you, Inquisitor. How were the Exalted Plains?"   
  
“Crawling with the undead, thanks Cullen," she replied sardonically.    
  
"Oh, I'll have to add it to my list of places to visit."    
  
She smiled and there was an awkward moments silence. He thought she must be nervous or worried about something - she was shifting her weight from foot to foot and looking determinedly at the ground. He felt a sharp pang of fear at what it might be and asked her gently, "Is there something I can do for you?"   
  
She was biting the inside of her lip, but when he spoke she looked him properly in the eyes and seemed to gather her resolve.    
  
"Yes - I uh, was hoping we could talk. Alone?"   
  
He looked over his shoulder at his empty office. Perhaps she might want to go where someone wouldn't knock on the door or barge in and interrupt them.   
  
"Alone? I mean - of course, Inquisitor. Should we - do you want to take a walk along the ramparts?"   
  
She nodded and headed for the door promptly, so he had to dart forwards to pull it open for her. That made her smile at him again, and he was glad for it.    
  
It was a beautiful day outside - clear and bright, with only a little wind. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously as they walked side by side, trying to think of something clever or engaging to say. They had been alone together many times before - but this felt so different.   
  
"It's a nice day," he blurted out, and she turned her big green eyes on him in surprise.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Oh, um, it's a... There was something you wanted to discuss?" He tried to recover, rubbing his neck again.   
  
Like so many times before, she simply stared at him for a moment, head gently tilted to one side, weighing up her words. When she finally spoke, he couldn't believe what he heard.   
  
"Cullen, I - I care for you - and..." she stopped short with a sigh, but his heart leapt nonetheless.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
"You left the templars, and I know we've made a lot of progress becoming friends but - do you trust mages? Does it matter that I'm an elf? I guess what I want to know is, could you ever think of me as anything more?"   
  
For a moment he found it absurd that she would think any of that mattered to him, that anything could get in the way of his loving her. But he remembered the things he had said in the past, the things she had already forgiven him for without a second thought. He cursed himself for his bitterness and resentment, that it might have made her think for even a second that he saw her as lesser. She, who was so beautiful it made his heart soar to look at her, so kind and good she gave him hope for the world, so passionate and tenacious he knew nothing could stand in her way.    
  
"I could - I mean, I do think of you. And what I might say to you in this sort of situation..." he replied, pacing a little to calm himself.   
  
"What's stopping you?" She asked quietly.   
  
"You're the Inquisitor, and we're at war, and I ... I didn't think it was possible."   
  
_ That you could ever want a man like me. Awkward and damaged and weak and angry and unwell. _ He left those parts unsaid.   
  
"And yet I'm still here."   
  
Yes she was. And not just in the sense that she was talking to him - he felt a thrill as he noticed the way she had moved in front of him, her back to the battlements, so close he could pull her into his arms at any second. She had been brave enough to come and tell him what she felt - he needed to be brave enough to show her that he felt the same. He stepped in closer, both hands reaching for her waist, his heart beating like a drum.    
  
"So you are. It seems too much to ask. But I want to -"   
  
Then the creak and thud of his office door opening announced the arrival of Scout Jim,  perfectly on time to ruin the moment.   
  
"Commander! You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report."   
  
He was looking down at the piece of paper in his hands, so he hadn't noticed the Inquisitor. Cullen cursed inwardly as she blushed and looked away from him, shifting on the spot in embarrassment. He had been so close!    
  
"What?!" He growled, stepping away and glaring at Jim. The scout needed to be gone, so he wouldn't lose his nerve and be too afraid to kiss her.   
  
"Sister Leliana's report ... you said you wanted it delivered without delay," Jim repeated, looking terrified as he noticed Cullen's furious expression. Glancing over the Commander's shoulder he saw the Inquisitor trying to blend into the battlements, and then switched back to Cullen glowering. He seemed to put two and two together remarkably slowly for a man Cullen trusted with a number of important duties, but finally he stammered, "Or ... to your desk. Sorry!" And backed away slowly, eyes wide with fear.   
  
"If you have to go it's alright - oh!" Eliya had started to speak but he couldn't control himself any longer and wouldn't let the moment slip through his fingers. In one swift movement he had turned back and pulled her into a passionate kiss, his hands cradling the sides of her face and into her hair. She seemed shocked at first, frozen as his mouth pressed against hers - but then she softened, parting her lips and pushing herself back against him.    
  
That was when his mind clicked to realise what he had just done - Maker, he had finally kissed her. He hoped he had done the right thing, and a small wave of uncertainty and decorum prompted him to pull back slightly and apologize.   
  
"I'm sorry ... that was ... um ... really nice."  _ Wow, way to play it cool Cullen _ he chastised himself.    
  
Eliya let out a small, breathless laugh, but to his surprise she didn't try to move away. Instead, she brought her hands up to weave her fingers through the fur on his mantle. Even wearing armour, he could feel the pressure of her body against his.   
  
"That was what I wanted," she replied in a small voice.   
  
"Oh - good," he stammered, leaning in to kiss her again. Finally he let himself take a deep breath, searching for her scent, wanting to commit every element of that moment to his memory. He recognised that the fruitiness was apples, of course, mixed with some kind of spice like in the pies she had such a fondness for. He thought he could also smell fresh grass, like springtime, but wondered if it was just because that was his favourite smell, and it seemed right that she should remind him of it. He could feel the hum of her magic, louder now with the excitement of the moment, and he realised it did not bother him. It was just another part of her, and for all her fire and power he felt safe with her in his arms. This was perfect - she was perfect - and he didn't think he'd ever fully believe that it was real.    
  
He could tell even with his eyes closed that she was smiling through her kiss; it made him smile too and whisper against her lips.   
"What is it?"   
  
She rested her forehead against his, fingers still tracing patterns in his ruff, and made a low noise of contentment in her throat.    
  
"How long have you wanted to do this?" she asked playfully.   
  
"Longer than I care to admit," he replied, running his hand along the line of her jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. She closed her eyes at his touch, lips slightly parted, and he had to kiss her again.    
  
"I'm so happy," she whispered against his lips.   
  
So was he. 

They stayed that way until the sun disappeared behind the mountains, paying no mind to anyone else around them. Cullen would gladly forget the whole world in favour of what it felt like to finally hold her. It was only when she started to shiver that he noticed how cold it had become. Regretfully, he stepped back and took her hands in his.

“We should - go inside, I suppose.”

Eliya hummed in affirmation. “You probably have work to do.”

Cullen chuckled. The never ending pile of work on his desk seemed much less painful  in the glow of his happiness. Then he remembered what else was waiting in his desk - the halla. 

“Would you come back into my office for a moment? There's something I… wanted to give you.”

Eliya nodded and let him lead her back across the ramparts. Her hands felt so small in his, so soft and warm. Back in his office, she leaned her hips against his desk as he bent down to collect the wooden statuette. He suddenly felt very foolish - why did he think this was a good idea?

Cullen nervously cleared his throat and explained. “I uh- I never got you a birthday present, so while you were away I made… it's just a small thing, but I wanted-”

Eliya reached out and pressed her hand to his cheek with a smile to reassure him. He presented the halla to her, and she took it with both hands, glancing up at him in surprise. He watched her lovely fingers as they examined the carving, tracing the shape of the horns. 

_ “ _ I wanted to give you something you could keep… a token, sort of, to - Makers breath, I'm sorry, I know it is ridiculous.” he apologised. She ignored his fumbling words, clutching the halla in one hand and wrapping the other around his neck, so she could pull herself up to kiss him. When she stopped, he saw that there were tears in her eyes and a dazed smile on her lips. 

“This is the sweetest, most thoughtful gift I have  _ ever  _ been given. I love it. You made this yourself?”

Cullen blushed. “Yes… I asked Blackwall to show me. I worked on it while you were gone.”

Eliya kissed him again, peppering his jaw and cheeks with feather-light brushes. It made Cullen laugh, a deep and throaty chuckle he’d rarely heard himself make before.

“Thank you, Cullen. I'll treasure it.”

“I'm going to treasure you, Eliya. You're the best thing that has happened in my life for the longest time. I won't take it for granted,” he told her earnestly.    


Eliya leaned into his chest, and Cullen pressed his lips against her forehead. “Where in the world did you come from, Cullen Stanton Rutherford?” she murmured, and he felt the warmth of her words echoed in his heart.

\---

Eliya walked back to her quarters with the halla clutched in one hand and a stupid grin plastered across her face. She didn't pay much attention to anything else around her, too distracted by the thought of the way Cullen had said “I want to,” and the thrill of the moment when he turned and kissed her by surprise. 

She was halfway up the stairs to her room when she noticed the sound of  _ several  _ voices - it seemed Dorian’s solitary wait for her return had become something of a party instead. Iron Bull was sitting at her desk, eating the tray of food that had been brought up for her dinner, while Sera was arranging an assortment of books, furniture and blankets into some kind of fort. Cole was sitting alone out on the balcony, while Dorian and Josephine discussed Tevinter high society. Varric sat on the couch, writing down something in his notebook that Eliya very much hoped was not the start of a new romance novel.

When they noticed her arrival, Bull and Sera began whistling and making crude remarks while Josephine clapped excitedly and Cole smiled. 

“How is it that you all know  _ exactly  _ what just happened?” Eliya asked incredulously.

“ _ Amatus,  _ surely even you must realise that the ramparts are hardly the most private place to make-out with a handsome Commander, particularly when your own balcony overlooks said location?” Dorian drawled, but his smile was full of genuine happiness. 

“Alright, I'll give you that one. But how did everyone know to come here in the first place?”

“Sera and I were in on the bet from the last mission. And Varric has been taking bets on the two of you for months, so I told him what was going on,” Bull explained.

“I was looking for you to discuss your gown for Empress Celene’s ball - and when I found everyone here I just  _ had  _ to stay and find out what happened,” Josephine added in a flutter.

“And Cole just appeared on his own and seemed to know exactly what we were here for,” Dorian continued.

“ _ Heart racing, take a breath - I hope he feels the same. _

_ She's like sunshine. Warmth and strength and beauty. Let me be brave enough for her. _

_ Never mind the interruption, only one thing matters.  _

_ His mouth tastes like- _ ”

“Thanks, Cole,” Eliya interrupted his musings, and he lifted his eyes under the brim of his hat.

“You're happy. You make him happy and he does the same for you. That makes  _ me  _ happy,” Cole informed her, and Eliya gave him a gentle hug.

“So come on Boss, give us the details. You weren't in his office for long enough for anything exciting to happen… unless the Commander doesn't have much stamina…” Bull teased with a mouthful of bread. 

“Very funny!” Eliya snarked back at him, stealing his plate away - though was it really stealing if the food was technically hers? “He was sitting at his desk. I told him I wanted to talk, so we went outside. I said that I had feelings for him and he said the same and then  _ Jim  _ interrupted - which you probably saw - and then he kissed me - which you probably saw as well. That's pretty much it - I mean, it was a  _ huge  _ step forward on it's own…” 

“I have to say ‘I told you so’. We all knew he was done for, with those puppy-dog eyes whenever you weren't looking,” Dorian announced. 

“Sounds to me like you won the bet though, Ruffles,” Varric interjected, and Josephine smiled coyly.

“Most people seemed to think Commander Cullen would make the first move, but I knew it would be you… after you told him to sit next to you at your birthday party… I'm very pleased for you, Inquisitor,” said Josephine. “Cassandra will be annoyed, though, she was so close! She bet he would kiss you before you rode out to the Exalted Plains.”

Eliya laughed - it seemed her every move with regards to Cullen had been closely watched for some time. Well they could tease her all they wanted, it didn't matter. She had kissed Cullen and if things went her way she would do it again soon. She let her friends chatter as she wandered over to her side-table and set the little wooden halla down upon it. 

Sera looked up and made a noise of disgust. “Eurgh, wha’s  _ that _ ?”

Eliya smiled fondly down at the figure. “My birthday present from Cullen. He carved it himself.”

“Why’d Cully make you a friggin bogfisher with horns?”

Eliya shot her a look. “It's  _ not _ a bogfisher, it's a halla.”

“No way, it's legs are too stumpy to be a halla,” Bull opined as he looked over her shoulder.

“One of its horns is shorter than the other,” Dorian pitched in, reaching out to take the figure.

Eliya slapped his hand away and turned to face them all, crossing her arms. “Don't you  _ dare  _ make fun of my present. I love it and that's all that matters.”

“It looks like a very sweet gift, Inquisitor. Blackwall made me a similar little - oh!” Josephine clapped her hands over her mouth mid-sentence, but they had all caught that little slip up.

“Beardy made you a present?”

“The Ambassador and the Warden…”

“How long has this been going on for?”

Eliya chuckled, glad that the focus had shifted from her. It gave her the chance to spend a few more moments remembering the feeling of Cullen's stubble against her skin and the taste of his mouth on hers. Across the room, Dorian smiled proudly, his two friends had finally figured themselves out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! 21 chapters and we made it! Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading, commenting and leaving kudos - this chapter is for you. Special shout out to Jarino who has been leaving me such lovely encouragement along the way :)
> 
> Obviously this isn't over yet and some of my favourite stuff is still to come so stick with me!


	22. All that glitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A masque at the Winter Palace is no place for a Dalish elf mage - and yet that is where Eliya finds herself. At least she has the game face for it. 
> 
> "Cullen smirked - that steely look was exactly the one that left him so confused when they first met back at Haven. He knew what it felt like to have those brilliant eyes boring into you, to feel the slight pulse of her magic and to see no emotion reflected on her delicate elven features. She didn't need a fancy mask to play the Game."

The Inquisition had two weeks before their party needed to depart for Empress Celene’s ball at the Winter Palace. That meant Eliya's time was consumed with lessons in dancing, etiquette and the Game, strategy meetings with the War Council and fittings for her new gown. The only good thing about long hours spent discussing Orlesian nobility and intrigues was that Cullen hated it too - so Eliya entertained herself by pulling faces at him and making him laugh when Josephine wasn't looking. 

Eliya also made an effort to continue their tradition of sharing meals in his office whenever possible. At first there was a lingering uncertainty in their interactions - a remainder from their many months of resolutely skirting their mutual feelings. Cullen ended up apologising for his awkwardness, telling Eliya that it had been a long time since he had wanted anyone in his life. He followed this statement by kissing her quite thoroughly, until Eliya actually felt her knees go weak. 

When she emerged from her rooms ready for Empress Celene’s ball, he was there waiting for her. Josephine and Vivienne had used the midnight blue fabric Cullen recommended, combined with touches of gold. Each color linked into the military style uniforms the rest of the Inquisition representatives wore, but Eliya's gown was designed to stand out in the crowd. The neckline was modest but showed off the dark lines of her vallaslin until the curve of her breasts. The back was cut low, the fabric gathering at the small of Eliya's back. It meant the character of Eliya's body was on display - pale skin dusted with freckles but also marked by the scar across her shoulder blades, her figure curved and womanly but with the hardened muscles of a fighter. The skirt was not as full as the style of the Orlesian court, and Eliya carried a mask in one hand but did not wear it. She felt beautiful wearing the dress, and Cullen's reaction only improved that feeling. When she turned on the spot for him to take it all in, his face flushed and all he could muster was, “You look… Eliya, just - wow.”

Eliya laughed and leaned in conspiratorially, whispering, “Want to see my favorite part?”

Cullen nodded, still unable to speak, and Eliya lifted the hem of her dress just enough so that Cullen could see she was wearing her favorite pair of hardened traveling boots underneath. That made Cullen laugh too. When Josephine and Leliana came out to meet them, he took Eliya's arm as they prepared to face the monster that was the Orlesian nobility.

\---

Cullen thought the night would never end. He stood in his designated place to the side of the ballroom, tolerating the asinine and often downright crude comments of those that gravitated towards him. Once or twice he caught glimpses of Eliya as she spoke to people and danced with the likes of Duchess Florianne. 

She looked spectacular. Not that she didn't always - even in clothes dirtied from days of travelling she made his heart race. But that dress - it made him obsess over the question of how far her vallaslin went after it plunged between her breasts. He wanted to run his hands over her bare back, wanted to taste her skin and feel her melt under his touch as he snaked his fingers under the fabric and discovered what was hidden there. They hadn't had much time to be alone together yet, and even in the moments they had stolen Cullen did not want to rush things, to ruin what was growing between them by getting carried away physically. Her kisses alone set his blood on fire, but he wanted her to know that it was her heart he sought. So even if it was purely fantasy, imagining these things was a useful distraction from the tedium that surrounded him.

“Commander Cullen, might I be so bold as to ask why that little  _ elf  _ woman was named Inquisitor? Surely there must have been other options far more  _ appropriate  _ for a cause as important as the Inquisition’s… someone such as yourself?”

Cullen jerked his head around irritably to look down at the woman speaking to him through her thick Orlesian accent. She was wearing a mask of course, garishly pink and covered in sparkling stones. He could deduce little else about her - but the content of her speech was enough for him to judge her character. 

“Inquisitor Lavellan is the Herald of Andraste. She closed the breach and continues to do good work in the name of our cause. There could be no other Inquisitor worthy of the title,” he responded curtly.

“Oh, of course, no doubt her actions have been commendable. But still... she hardly comes from a very  _ trustworthy  _ background. An elf and a mage on top of that - I can't imagine many of your people are entirely comfortable with following her judgement on all matters.”

Cullen tried to channel as much rage and disdain as possible into his response. “I - and every man I command - fully support Inquisitor Lavellan and her leadership. We would all gladly lay down our lives to serve  _ her  _ and the Inquisition's cause.”

If the pink-masked woman had anything else to say, Cullen didn't hear it - he was distracted by the sensation of hands grasping flesh, and none too gently.

“Did you just… grab my bottom?” he asked incredulously, whirling around to face a plump woman outfitted in black, red and gold. 

“Perhaps I did… did you like it, Commander?” she trilled, rolling and drawing out his title in a way that was no doubt intended to be seductive, but instead made him irrationally annoyed. 

“Are you married, Commander?” came another question, this time from a rather tall but spindly looking man. His mask had a beak, like a bird, and gave Cullen the overall impression of a vulture.

“Not yet, but I am - already taken,” Cullen replied in what he hoped was a firm voice.

“Still single then… I could show you a night you won't soon forget, young man,” the old vulture crooned, and Cullen fought down a wave of nausea. He was beginning to feel like an animal trapped in a cage, forced to endure the taunting and prodding of too many onlookers.

“Excuse me -” Cullen turned sharply again with a huff of irritation, but it wasn't another damned Orlesian standing before him - it was Eliya.

“Oh! Inquisitor. Did you need something? The sooner we track down this infiltrator, the better.”

He cursed inwardly that he couldn't greet her more  _ familiarly  _ \- but they had to maintain a semblance of professionalism lest the Inquisition become plagued by gossip. She smiled back at him bemusedly, glancing at the small crowd of nobles clustered around him. 

“You've gathered quite the following. Who are all these people?” Eliya asked, the corner of her mouth quirking with a suppressed smile. 

“I don't know -  _ but they won't leave me alone. _ ” Cullen leaned in to whisper the last part. 

“Lady Inquisitor, what an honour it is to meet you.” It was the pink-mask lady from before. Cullen wished he could tell Eliya not to give her the time of day after the woman's earlier rudeness. But as he examined Eliya's expression, he thought his warning might be unneeded. She was smiling at the Orlesian woman in what might have been a very polite way if it wasn't for the glint of unbridled disdain in her eyes. 

“Not at all, dear lady, it is my honour to meet such distinguished guests as yourselves,” Eliya responded with a slight sneer. She cast her gaze across the others surrounding Cullen and he thought he could almost feel them shrinking back from the power she radiated. Cullen smirked - that steely look was exactly the one that left him so confused when they first met back at Haven. He knew what it felt like to have those brilliant eyes boring into you, to feel the slight pulse of her magic and to see no emotion reflected on her delicate elven features. She didn't need a fancy mask to play the Game.

He hoped that these Orlesians would realise Eliya's great strength - that she was a woman who would be fiercely loved by her allies, and greatly feared by her enemies. 

“If you don't mind, lords and ladies, I'd appreciate a moment to speak with my Commander,” she said firmly - an order, not a request. Eliya bowed her head in acknowledgement but not deference as the small crowd muttered and shuffled away - though Cullen noted they didn't go far. 

“So, not enjoying the attention then?” Eliya's focus switched back to him, her sneaky smile back in place. 

“Hardly. At this point, the headache I'm developing is preferable to the company. Anyway, yours… yours is the only attention worth having,” he lowered his voice for the last part of his sentence, still conscious of the nobles sulking nearby. 

“Save a dance for me?” Eliya whispered back, and before he knew it he had told her no, his standard response to that question throughout the night. Eliya's eyebrows raised as she let out a soft ‘oh’.

“I didn't mean to… oh, Maker's Breath, I've answered that question so many times I'm rejecting it automatically. I'm not one to dance. The templars never attended balls,” Cullen tried to explain. 

“We'll talk later,” she responded. Eliya didn't look too bothered - but maybe it was just her mask slipping back into place? Cullen nodded and stepped back. “I await your signal,” he said in a professional voice, this time hoping the Orlesians would overhear. Then he watched as she slipped back amongst the crowds. Anywhere else, she had a manner that allowed her to pass unnoticed and sneak up on people - as Cullen had so often experienced. But here at the palace, he could see the tiny movements that betrayed dozens of eyes following her. It suddenly made him very worried. If he was a caged animal being prodded and poked, she was something still wild and beautiful - but hunted. Beneath those masks, predators lurked, nameless and faceless. He knew she was strong - but who could fight against an invisible enemy?

\---

When Morrigan left, Eliya found herself alone out on the balcony and by the gods was she grateful for it. She let out a deep sigh, bracing herself against the low wall and staring up at the stars. She couldn't stand the sight of the city laid out before her. There were hardly any trees - how could people live like this? 

Her ears picked up the sound of footsteps and her shoulders slumped, wishing for whoever it was to just go away. If another snooty noble asked for a dance or wanted her to meet their favourite nephew or had ‘just a small favour to ask in return for giving the Inquisition their full support’ she really thought she would set them on fire.

“There you are. Everyone's been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment - are you alright?”

Her agitation eased when she realised it was Cullen. She loved the sound of his voice, she even closed her eyes for a moment just to savor the affection in those words, as warm as his amber-gold eyes. Then she realised she hadn't responded to his question. 

“I'm just worn out. Tonight has been… very long.” It seemed like  _ days  _ since she had greeted him outside their rooms. It hurt her head just to think about everything that had happened. But Empress Celene was alive, and she was reconciled with Briala. For once, Eliya was actually very satisfied with how things had unfolded - but it had seemed to her like choosing the best from a range of bad options.  There was so much corruption, so much hatred and discrimination and from the things she had learnt that evening, no one's hands were clean. It made her yearn for life in the forest. It was what made her want to be alone - and yet she knew that wish didn't extend to Cullen. There was something about him that calmed her, just like that night at Adamant. As Eliya reflected, she marveled at how far they had come since then.

“For all of us. I'm glad it's over,” Cullen agreed, with relief quite palpable in his voice. He gently lay a hand upon her shoulder. “I know it's foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.”

Eliya brought one of her hands up to cover his, and quirked the corners of her mouth in a tired smile. The sound of applause and laughter burst forth from the ballroom behind them, and to her surprise it made Cullen grin. 

"I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask - may I have this dance, my lady?" Cullen bowed and held out his hand.

That was unexpected. Then again, in what world had Eliya ever imagined herself at a royal party, rubbing shoulders with nobility, and as a rather important guest to boot? In this strange new world, it almost seemed fitting that a handsome soldier would ask her to dance. 

  
"Of course," Eliya replied, stepping forward into his arms. "But I thought you didn't dance?" 

  
"For you, I'll try." He responded simply, leading her in slow, easy steps. Eliya was just happy for the chance to be near him after such an exhausting night. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered, "Did I mention how incredibly beautiful you look tonight?"

  
She grinned. "You're the one that attracted your own circle of admirers, Commander."

  
"You might have done the same if you'd stood in one place for long enough. Everyone was talking about you, the hero of the night."

  
"Mmmm. And yet if they saw me in the street they'd call me a rabbit or a savage. They still did even here, but they thought I couldn't hear them. Or maybe they didn't care if I did."

  
"If they did in front of me, I'd be in a lot of trouble. It'd be hard to explain to Josephine why I'd sliced someone to pieces on the expensive carpet."

  
"Good thing you have such excellent self control."

  
"It is, and in fact I had to work hard not to get in a fist fight with some of the nobles that came after me tonight, actually. Lucky I had something else to focus on instead."

  
"Mmm, like what?"

  
"Imagining how nice it would be to kiss you once this is all over. Somewhere quiet, where no one will spot us and tell everyone in the palace."

  
Now she lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "That sounds perfect, Cullen."

  
They stopped their dance, and for a moment nothing existed but the two of them. She wondered if she ought to disregard their plans for discretion and just go for it. It would be far from the worst indiscretion that would occur in the palace tonight. Still, the Inquisition had rather a lot more to lose. Instead she laughed. 

“Just look at you Cullen. The dreamy handsome prince here to sweep a lady off her feet.”

To her surprise, a look of sadness crossed his face. 

“I'm not a prince, though, Eliya… I have no title outside of the Inquisition. There is very little that I can offer you in this world,” he said, eyes downcast. Eliya tilted her head to force him to look at her - one of the advantages of being so much shorter.

“Good, because I don't want anything from   _ this  _ world. None of it matters to me, Cullen. All I want from you is  _ you,”  _ she half-scolded, and he smirked. 

“I'm not very good at this, am I?” 

“You'll learn.”

Again they stood transfixed by each other, and Eliya shivered slightly as a breeze brushed across her skin. Cullen's thumb traced the gooseflesh that had sprung up across her arms. 

“You're cold. Do you want my jacket?”

“I can only imagine the uproar you'd cause if people got a look at you in just a shirt and breeches, Commander Cullen,” she joked. “No, I'm fine. I'm just wondering whether this is our chance to sneak off and get some sleep, or if we're expected to stick around all night.”

Fortunately Josephine appeared a moment later, as though to answer that exact question. 

“The Empress has retired for the evening, “Inquisitor, Commander. Would you like me to make our excuses? I know some of the others are eager to retire.” Josephine explained politely, not commenting on the fact that Cullen's hand was still at Eliya's waist.

“I'd very much appreciate it, Josephine. Will you be turning in as well?”

“No - Madame De Fer and I both intend to stay a little longer. Varric said he was still ‘gathering ideas’. It was Lady Cassandra who -”

“By the Maker, can we please get out of here?” came Cassandra's haughty voice, cutting off Josephine mid explanation. “Inquisitor, no one can complain if I leave with you.” 

Cassandra grabbed Eliya's wrist and started pulling her towards the exit. She cast an apologetic look over her shoulder at Cullen, who looked a little bereft. Still, he followed a few steps behind them, and Eliya knew they were both looking for a way to excuse themselves. Cassandra rushed them through the halls back towards their rooms, muttering aggressively about Orlesians and nobles in general. When they reached the corridor that lead down towards the men's quarters, she called out, “Evening, Commander” nonchalantly and continued to pull Eliya towards where the women were sleeping.

Eliya admired her determination, but at this point she hardly needed to be by the Seekers side. The problem was, she wasn't eager to explain to Cassandra just why she and Cullen needed a private moment together. Not yet, at least. Instead, Eliya came out with a different, rather weak excuse, stopping in her tracks. 

  
"Sorry, I've just realised there is something I was meant to ask Commander Cullen. You go on, I'll be back in a minute!"   
  
Cassandra frowned. "Surely it can wait until morning?"   
  
Eliya shook her head, already retreating down the hall. "There's so much going on,  I'm sure I'll forget it if I don't ask now! I promise I won't be long!"   
  
Cassandra just shrugged as Eliya lifted her skirts and hurried away. It hadn't been long since they'd separated but she wasn't sure exactly where the men's rooms were - he might be inside already.

Fortunately,  she came around a corner to see Cullen's figure silhouetted in a window, staring out over the palace rooftops and courtyard. "Cullen!" She called gently as she made her way towards him, and he turned to see her just as she reached him.

Eliya flung her arms around Cullen's neck and he, not missing a beat, grabbed her by the waist to lift her up as she kissed him. His arms held her tightly to him, and she poured out all the tension and the wanting she was feeling. Slowly he took a few steps forward and pinned Eliya to the wall, matching her passion and ferocity. 

For a few minutes they remained that way, tangled in each other, until their pace slowed and Cullen gently eased her feet back to the ground. Still he cornered her, one hand bracing himself against the wall as he pressed his forehead to hers. Eliya's hands still gripped his jacket firmly, his body an anchor as her heart thundered. 

  
"You'd been waiting all night. I didn't want to leave you disappointed," she murmured.

Cullen obliged her with his sexy half-smirk, so tempting that she had to lean in once again to leave a collection of lustful kisses on his swelling lips. 

  
"There is nothing about you that is disappointing," he replied, once she gave him the chance. Then he left her with one last kiss, slow and lingering, before wishing her a good night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a slightly longer wait on this chapter. I got excited last week and posted everything I had and haven't had much time to write more! 
> 
> I've hit over 1000 views which is super exciting. Thanks as always for reading!


	23. Here to relive your darkest moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's withdrawals come back with a vengeance and lead him to reconsider things.
> 
> "That was when he realised this could not go on. For all his hard work, there was no escaping the fact that not taking lyrium had weakened him beyond what he could accept. He was not fit for command. He was not fit for the Inquisition. His mind turned to Eliya - her strength, her goodness… he was not fit for her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a bit of violence / torture and a rape reference.

Much to Cullen's chagrin, he and Eliya would not be travelling back to Skyhold together. With the dispute for the rule of Orlais now effectively ended, peace still needed to be brokered amongst the warring groups in the Exalted Plains. Eliya, her party and a contingent of soldiers were dispatched to join the Inquisition's forces already on the ground to that end. Cullen and a smaller party were headed to the Western Approach. It was a long-overdue inspection, a chance to check in with Rylen and to relieve some of the men stationed there. All good reasons; yet they didn't lessen Cullen's frustration at being separated from Eliya.

At first, he had hoped to finish his business in a week or two and meet up with her so they might return to Skyhold together. Instead, he found himself dealing with one problem and another for over three weeks, by which point Eliya’s letters told him they had been diverted into Fereldan by some urgent matter in Crestwood. Cullen decided to speed up the journey home by getting passage on a boat up the coast. It might have been a good plan if it weren't for the storm that hit them just beyond Val Royeaux; the boat pitched so violently that Cullen experienced the worst seasickness of his life. He still felt queasy when they docked near the border of Orlais and Fereldan; but after a few days of travel into the mountains it became clear that his withdrawal symptoms had decided to latch onto his existing suffering. It was particularly cruel given that Cullen had been feeling much better of late - but now the headaches, nausea and muscle spasms were back and twice as bad as he had ever experienced them. 

The soldiers he had brought back from the Western approach didn't know him as well as those he had left behind; he felt awful about the impression he must be giving them. They were forced to stop for three days in a town nestled in a valley not far from where Haven had stood. The delay might have bothered Cullen more if he hadn't been on the edge of consciousness the entire time. He could barely tell what year it was, let alone how many days had passed as he sweated and shook, hallucinations merging with nightmares into a terrifying world of all his worst fears. 

In his head, Cullen was back at the Circle Tower in Fereldan. He was tired, hungry and desperately thirsty, and his body ached from the torture he had endured. Surely he barely resembled a man any longer; it felt as though he had been flayed, or every inch of his flesh bruised, every bone fractured. Why did he still live? What more did they want from him? He had watched his friends die, and Cullen might have called it mercy but for the ways they died. He had listened to McCree’s gasping, gurgling last breaths as blood poured from the smiling dark line that had been opened in her throat. He would never forget the smell of Grange’s flesh as he burned alive, nor the screams that lasted far too long. Then there was Yardley - twisted by the words of the lust demon, coaxed into defiling Mayweather and ending her life so brutally before that demon had torn his own heart from his chest. 

He remembered what had happened after the Hero of Fereldan had freed him - the slow, agonizing walk back down the tower. The Wardens had half-carried him, but he was still conscious enough to see what he was passing by - hundreds of corpses. The lifeless bodies of so many people he had once known. In the years that followed, he would often dream that every body had been Solona’s - an endless, tormenting echo of her loss. Now, it was Eliya's face he saw - it was Eliya he watched dying, Eliya’s inanimate form that littered the tower floors. It was his fault - the demons in his head knew how much he loved her, knew that the easiest way to destroy him was to hurt her. He couldn't keep her safe, just as he had failed Solona he would fail her too. 

When the pain eased enough for Cullen to regain control of his basic faculties, he insisted that his party push on to Skyhold. There was murmured apprehension, a few protests that he was not well enough, but Cullen knew these soldiers weren't brave enough to really argue with him. That's why they rode out, Cullen stubbornly ignoring the waves of heat and pain that made his stomach clench and his head swim. They were only a few hours away from Skyhold when he blacked out upon his horse and fell into the deep snow by the roadside. He came to surrounded by worried faces, anxiously apologising though they had done nothing wrong. 

That was when he realised this could not go on. For all his hard work, there was no escaping the fact that not taking lyrium had weakened him beyond what he could accept. He was not fit for command. He was not fit for the Inquisition. His mind turned to Eliya - her strength, her goodness… he was not fit for her. 

“We must get back to Skyhold,” he ordered and this time was met with no protest. Clearly they wished to be free of his burdensome self. The sight of the castle towers was met with cries of relief and happiness. Cullen’s head throbbed as their arrival was heralded and Scout Jim rushed forward with news. 

“The Inquisitor’s party has returned as well, Commander. They arrived from Crestwood just yesterday.”

His first thought was of Eliya, and how deeply he wanted to lose himself in her arms, to take back all the moments that he had been denied in these weeks of separation. But he knew that would only make what must come next even harder. 

“I must speak with Seeker Pentaghast.”

\---

“You asked for my opinion and I've given it. Why would you expect it to change?” Cassandra stated defiantly.

“I expected you to keep your word. It's relentless. I can't…”

“You give yourself too little credit.”

“If anything I have been selfish in not stepping down sooner! I have no control over my own body, over my own mind! What if something had happened on that journey and I had been powerless to do anything about it? What sort of Commander leaves his men vulnerable and without a leader like that? If I'm unable to fulfil what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this. Would you rather save face than -”

Cullen thought that his heart could sink no lower, but he was proven wrong when the door creaked open and Eliya was standing there. He saw his failure reflected more clearly than ever in the look on her face. Half happy to see him, half hurt and bewildered that he didn't come to her first. Somewhere there, confusion about this angry confrontation before her. 

He couldn't stand it. He left, knowing Cassandra would explain. Knowing that she would come to him afterwards. If he were a better man he'd break the news himself. But Cullen had always known that despite his best intentions, he wasn't a better man. 

“Forgive me.” He whispered as he left the woman whom his soul loved, standing in the wake of his inadequacy.

\---

Cullen was halfway to his office when he finally snapped. He turned on his heel in an instant and headed for the infirmaries. The healers there looked surprised when he asked for a lyrium kit. They knew he was a former templar, but he'd never come to them for lyrium before. Perhaps they thought he had his own supply. He tried to make an apologetic face that probably came off as more of a grimace and told them he had lost his own kit on the journey back from the Western Approach. Then he tucked the wooden case under his arm and marched swiftly out of there.

He only opened it once he was alone in his office. As soon as the lid was lifted he heard the sweet singing call and his eyes fixed on the dancing blue of that cursed liquid. He had no idea how long he stood there, going over every side of the problem in his head, and staring at what might be his salvation or his downfall. Then, with a grimace and a roar of rage, he sent the kit flying across the room, where it shattered against the stone. A figure crossing the threshold of his office jumped back in shock -  _ Eliya. _

“Maker's breath! I didn't hear you enter - I… forgive me.” His words came out weak, desperate.  His hands had begun to shake again and he felt himself break out in sweat. 

“Cullen, if you need to talk…”

“You don't have to…” he stopped mid-sentence, groaning as his legs faltered and he stumbled forwards into the desk. Eliya rushed forward to help him but he held up a hand to keep her away. “I never meant for this to interfere.”

“Are you going to be alright?”

At first he answered yes, then sighed and told the truth. He didn't know. He couldn't remember when he had last been properly alright. There was a certain darkness inside him that had festered for far too long… Perhaps it would be easier to tell her. 

“You asked what happened to Fereldan's Circle.  It was taken over by abominations. The templars - my friends - were slaughtered. I was tortured. They tried to break my mind and I… how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can't you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

It wasn't a good explanation, but he didn't want it to seem like an excuse, and there were so many threads to the bigger picture. How do you begin to explain the patchwork of horror that his life had been?

“Of course I can. I-”

“Don't. You should be questioning what I've done. I thought this would be better, that I would regain some control over my life but… these thoughts won't leave me! How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause. I will  _ not  _ give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry. I should be taking it!” He was pacing, frantic, ready to snap again. At the last words of his sentence, he punched his fist into the bookshelf, feeling his knuckles burn and the crunch of wood splintering. It barely helped. “I should be taking it,” he whispered. 

“This doesn't have to be about the Inquisition. Is this what you want?”

She had come closer despite his outburst. Always so fearless. Always so kind. What did he want? He wanted to be a man worthy of her. He wanted to believe that he could do this, break the chains that bound him, so that one day they might have a life together - whatever that would entail. 

“No. But… these memories have always haunted me - if they become worse, if I cannot endure this…”

Eliya reached out to press her hand over his heart. “You can.”

“Alright,” he replied timidly, not entirely convinced. But he would keep trying. “For you.”

She shook her head. “I'll be here, but you can't do it just for me. This has to be for yourself, Cullen.”

He met her eyes, and a number of things happened all at once. The image from his nightmares of her in McCree’s place, throat slit and gasping for air sprang unbidden to his mind. Eliya's magic, always in the air when her emotions ran high, gave a tangible pulse. Cullen, already pushed to his limits, felt an overwhelming rise of nausea and he jerked backwards out of her reach.

Cullen felt endlessly guilty when he saw her dismay. For so many weeks he had only imagined what it would be like to see her again, and now his visions of a romantic reunion had crumbled before him. 

“I'm sorry, I… think I need some space.” he told her feebly. 

Eliya's mouth opened and closed again, as though she started to speak and thought better of her words. He noticed that she was doing the thing with her hands, pressing her fingers together. When she spoke again she was calmer, collected - mask back in place.

“I have to go to Redcliffe - there's something happening with Dorian’s family. I'll… I ought to be back in a week or so. I hope you'll… look after yourself, Cullen.”  
  
Cullen watched her go and felt his heart break just a little. She had just seen the side of him that he had been desperately trying to hide - and now things between them had changed. He could only hope that by the time she returned he had strength enough to fight for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cully. That scene in the game makes me so sad, you can see how tense and upset he is. Some people seem to think that Cullen never really apologises for the things he did in Kirkwall but I think that is such a big part of his character arc, he has so many regrets. Plus he has been dealing with the trauma of Fereldan for so long - you don't just get over something like that. 
> 
> Love your comments and kudos and thanks as always for reading!


	24. You're a hard soul to save

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Cullen's revelations, Eliya tries to cling to what holds them together rather than what is pushing them apart. 
> 
> "Then a few days later they were back in the valley where Skyhold stood. Eliya was full of apprehension. What if Cullen had gotten worse? Perhaps she shouldn't have left. Perhaps he had ignored her advice and forced Cassandra to find his replacement after all? No, Cassandra was too stubborn to let that happen. Her words echoed in Eliya's head - “It would destroy him. He's come so far.”"

The trip to Redcliffe was difficult. Everyone was lighthearted enough to begin with - she had missed Dorian, Sera and Bull’s company after her long weeks away. But the person she missed most of all was Cullen, and she'd barely had a chance to be near him. Their conversation weighed on her like a crushing force. The way he had recoiled from her touch - it was unbearable. 

Then there was the matter of the letter. Josephine had it waiting for her when she returned to Skyhold - a message from Deshanna. The clan was in trouble, something about suspicious bandits. Eliya had worried since she agreed to become the Inquisitor that her clan would be targeted - and after the Winter Palace, it seemed more and more likely that some disgruntled noble would go after them. Her first instinct was to drop everything and return to Wycome to help them - but there was so much else to do. And what if it was a trap to get her out of southern Thedas, where the Inquisition's presence was strongest? After talking it through with Josephine and Leliana, they had decided to send Leliana's agents to investigate. Quieter, efficient and less likely to cause bigger problems for her clan. But not taking action left Eliya in a position where she had to sit and wait for news - which would have been easier to bear if she could at least talk to Cullen about it. 

When Dorian's father appeared in the tavern in Redcliffe, she felt so guilty for having brought him there at all. Eliya apologised over and over but in the end he said he was glad that she did - and they got very, very drunk that night. The next day they rode east, to handle the Fereldan Frostback causing trouble near the Dusklight camp. That raised Bull and Dorian's spirits considerably - they got drunk again at camp that night. Eliya was glad to have scouts on duty for the night watch, as it meant she could sneak off for bed and leave her two friends to their own devices. The next morning, Bull definitely had a spring in his step that he put down to fighting the dragon, while Dorian resolutely refused to acknowledge any of her teasing questions. Truthfully, investing herself in this potential relationship was a distraction, a way to avoid thinking about whether she and Cullen would be able to salvage theirs. 

Then a few days later they were back in the valley where Skyhold stood. Eliya was full of apprehension. What if Cullen had gotten worse? Perhaps she shouldn't have left. Perhaps he had ignored her advice and forced Cassandra to find his replacement after all? No, Cassandra was too stubborn to let that happen. Her words echoed in Eliya's head -  _ “It would destroy him. He's come so far.”  _

The thing that scared her most was the way he had recoiled from her touch. She had tried to keep her magic under control, but she knew it had triggered his reaction. All she wanted to do was help him heal, and instead it seemed she made things worse. Which meant there was a chance that this could never work between them - that there was a hurdle too high for an ex-templar and a mage to get over, no matter how hard they tried. She didn't know how she would cope, now knowing that he loved her but that it wasn't enough. 

Their journey had not been long, so instead of returning to her quarters Eliya went directly in search of Cullen. She was pleased and a little surprised to find him not at his desk or with the soldiers, but standing out on the battlements, staring out at the valley below. He didn't notice her at first - she did always seem to sneak up on him. To her relief, he seemed far more at ease than when they had parted - his shoulders weren't hunched with pain and his movement was calmer, less agitated. He was breathing deeply, the wind on his face. He looked peaceful. 

_ Is it because I've been gone? Did he need the time away from me to get better?  _ The cruel voice in Eliya's head asked, but she rebuked it. This wasn't her fault - she was neither the cause of Cullen's withdrawals nor the cure for it.  _ But your magic might make things worse. _

“Cullen.” She said his name just loud enough for him to hear, and waited for him to turn and acknowledge her. When he did, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a smile. His eyes swept over her, checking that she was intact, and real.

“I didn't expect you to come and find me so soon. I thought I'd give you the chance to rest first,” he said quietly, still smiling. Eliya wasn't sure what to make of his tone.

“I can come back later, if you -”

“No! Please, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to thank you. When you came to see me… If there's anything…” he sighed sadly. “This sounded much better in my head.”

She tilted her head to the side, still trying to figure out what kind of conversation this was.

“I trust you're feeling better?”

“I… yes.”

“Is it always that bad?”

“The pain comes and goes. Sometimes I feel as if I'm back there. I should not have pushed myself so far that day.”

“I'm just glad you're alright.”

“I am. I've never told anyone what truly happened to me at Fereldan's Circle. I was… not myself after that. I was angry. For years that anger blinded me. I'm not proud of the man that made me. The way I saw mages - I might not have cared about you. And the thought of that sickens me.”

Eliya felt an intense swell of affection and emotion at Cullen's words. All these years of carrying these burdens on his own, and she was the one he shared them with. She knew what it felt like to shut people out, and how scary it could be to break down the barriers you yourself had put in place.

“You asked me, before we first kissed, whether I could ever think of you as anything more. But that's not a question you should ever have had to ask. It - I can't understand how or why you were - are - interested in me, knowing what I have done. I'm not a good man, Eliya, for all that I am trying to be better. I used to be good, used to believe in protecting mages and keeping people safe. After everything that happened, I thought all mages ought to be punished, over the actions of a few. And see what I did as a result! See the carnage that I supported, defended! I can never escape it."

He was so full of self-hatred. How do you convince a person of their own worth? Eliya supposed the truth was that you couldn't. All you could do was love them relentlessly, and hope that one day they realised it was for good reason.   
  
"Cullen, you're not weak, you aren't … you've been through such horrendous things, you can't… This isn't coming out right. You suffered through something unimaginable in Fereldan, and you survived. Like you said, how can anyone be the same after that? It doesn't  _ excuse _ the things that happened in Kirkwall, but it's part of the bigger picture. You can't look at it as escaping the past, Cullen. I've told you this before. Trying to escape it all would be like pretending it never happened. Trying to atone for it means wearing the consequences, and trying to make up for it with every step forward. It's also about recognising the things that lead you there. There are lots of people who do terrible things in this world Cullen. But  _ doing _ something bad doesn't make that  _ person _ irreconcilably bad. Good and evil are not black and white like that. Don't ever forget what happened; but you need to move on. I can see you're getting there, you're just fighting yourself because you don't think you deserve to."   
  
"I suppose you're right. I just… I wish that I was a different man, without all this… horror in my past. There is enough on your shoulders already without you having to deal with my darkness as well. At least now I can put some distance between myself and everything that happened. It's a start."   
  
"For what it's worth, Cullen - I like who you are now."   
  
"Even after..."   
  
"Cullen, I care about you. You've done nothing to change that.”  Eliya sighed and cast her eyes down. Even with all this talk,they were skirting around what really needed to be said.

“Cullen, that moment… before I left. What - what did I do? Did I… do I make it worse?” she stammered.

“It's… complicated.” he replied tentatively, and Eliya screwed up her face in confusion. 

“It’s not a difficult question, Cullen. Did being around my magic make things worse for you?” She didn't mean to sound so confrontational. This wasn't how she dealt with things. But she was fighting an internal battle between not wanting to cause him more pain and not wanting to let him go. They were both trying to break down their own tendency to shut people out and bear their burdens alone - but what if she wasn't the right person to help Cullen do that? She needed answers. 

“Yes, Eliya. It was partly that. But there's more… when things are bad, I see - I remember all those things that happened in Kinloch Hold. I relive it. But lately - since I realised how I felt about you, it's like the demons in my head know they can use you against me. Now when I remember what they did, it's you they torture, and I have to watch them do it. It's agony and there's nothing I can… I know it's not real. But when I looked at you that day, I saw a flash of them hurting you, and for a second your magic felt like their magic, and I couldn't bear it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to go.”

It was the answer she had predicted, and dreaded. Her shoulders slumped and she felt all the fight drain out of her.

“So we should end this, then,” she said in a hollow voice. Cullen’s head snapped upwards as he looked at her in shock.

“What?”

“Being with me is making it harder for you. I don't want to do that Cullen, I don't want to hold you back from getting better.”

Cullen closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. She wanted to close her eyes, to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill forth.

“No, Eliya, that's not it at all. Haven't I just been saying how I want to be better  _ for  _ you? Having you is like… you're the  _ best  _ thing that could have possibly happened to me, and I  _ never  _ expected to find you, to find  _ this _ . It just means I actually have something to lose. But even if we ended things right here, right now, those visions wouldn't go away. I care about you too much. At least this way I get the good things, along with the worry.”

He pulled her gently to him, enveloping her small form with his own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the fur of his ruff and entwining her fingers in it as well. 

“I've missed you so much,” she whispered. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you, Eliya. And I feel like all we've talked about is me, when you have troubles of your own. How are you holding up?”

“Honestly? I'm terrified. So many people depend on us, on me. Corypheus is still out there.” 

"We've made great strides. Do not doubt yourself or the Inquisition just yet. If there's anything you need - you have only to ask."   
  
Eliya smiled up at him. "A kiss would be nice."   
  
Cullen grinned in return, surprised but gratified. "Of course." 

  
He leaned in towards her, but stopped short and took a breath.   
  
"I'm afraid, Eliya. Afraid because it's been a long time since I had anyone important in my life. I don't ever want to hurt you, and I'm scared that I will," he said softly.   
  
Eliya rose up onto her tiptoes and closed the remaining distance to kiss him. She felt his gloved hands tighten on the small of her back, knew that his brow was still furrowed out of fear and anxiety. This kiss was different to the ones they had shared before - she wanted to soothe him, breathing slowly, letting her warmth soak into him even through his armour.    
  
After a time she pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye. "I've never done this before either, Cullen. There's a lot in this world to be afraid of. We'll find a way through it all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many feels, such angst. I've been editing this chapter back and forth but I think I'm happy with it now. So many different problems they have to deal with - in the words of Harry Potter, "I wonder what it's like to have a normal life."
> 
> And just a note to say thanks so much for al your comments and feedback. I squee whenever I get one. This is the first time I've ever shared my writing with people and I'm so glad to know that people like it <3


	25. Drum beating in my chest again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Eliya struggle to find time alone to explore their relationship and each other - so Cullen comes up with a plan.
> 
> "Cullen hummed thoughtfully in response, tracing the line from her bottom lip down her chin again until it disappeared under the neckline of her blouse.
> 
> “How - how far does it go?”"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit NSFW

After the confusion and separation of the last two months, Cullen and Eliya started making up for lost time. The timidity that had marked their interactions before the Winter Palace was swept away, replaced with a lust and euphoria that left them both acting like young lovers. Which, Eliya supposed, was exactly what they were. The main problem they began to face was that at Skyhold, it seemed impossible to find any chances to be alone.

One morning, when most people were still finishing breakfast, Eliya dragged Cullen through the main hall and down a set of stairs. She'd been exploring and had found a dusty old library. It might make her sneeze, but it was also always deserted - the perfect place for a private moment with her Commander before the War Council later that day.

“Where are we going?” Cullen asked curiously as they turned a corner and started down one of the dark corridors of Skyhold’s vault.

“It's a surprise,” Eliya replied, and moments later they were surrounded by walls of books and ancient cobwebs. Cullen raised his eyebrows at her.  “Wow. It's ah - very… it has a lot of character.”

Eliya smirked. “Nice effort, Cullen. I'm more interested in what it doesn't have - namely, a whole lot of people demanding our time.”

Happy realisation dawned on his face and Eliya giggled a little bit at the way he sauntered over to her. He grabbed her by the waist as he kissed her, his tongue invading her mouth, and she pushed her body against his. Soon his hands slid further down to run over the curves of her behind. She let out a little gasp and then giggled when he effortlessly lifted her off her feet, wrapping her legs around his hips as he spun her in a circle. Then he walked them both back to a low wooden bench near the wall, sinking down so that she straddled his lap. They sat entwined for a few minutes, kissing and touching and holding.

Cullen reached out and traced the lines of her vallaslin across her forehead and cheeks, from her bottom lip down to her chin and the curve of her neck.

“Did it hurt, having this done?”

“Oh yes it did,” Eliya responded with a grimace, as though she was reliving the experience. “It goes for hours at a time - sometimes days. Over and over they press the needles into your skin, I can't even describe the feeling. And you aren't meant to scream or cry or complain at all, no signs that it's hurting you while it happens. The Dalish say that's how you prove you're strong enough to be considered an adult. I got mine at seventeen.”

“How did you bear it?” he asked, his brow furrowed as though he disapproved of her ever having to be in pain.

“It sounds silly but I just - gritted my teeth and thought of different things. I recited all the stories I could remember about the gods in my head, every song I knew, the name of every plant, and the history of the elves. I told myself I wouldn't think about how much it hurt and then eventually it was over.”

Cullen hummed thoughtfully in response, tracing the line from her bottom lip down her chin again until it disappeared under the neckline of her blouse.

“How - how far does it go?” he inquired, his voice husky. Oh, so _that's_ what he was thinking when she caught him staring at the line that traced down her neck. Eliya smiled seductively and leaned back so he could watch her slowly unbutton her blouse. The hand on her waist tightened and she saw how he bunched the other into a fist, using all his self control not to do the job himself.

She didn't remove her shirt altogether, just unbuttoning it low enough for him to see the dark line that ran down her chest and finished on her sternum, flourishes curling below the curves of each breast. She never wore a breast band - there wasn't that much to hold up and she hated the tightness of them. Cullen seemed to appreciate her lack of underthings. His eyes flickered up to hers, hooded and dark with desire as he reached out to run his fingers gently over the line. She was glad he had taken his gloves off, so she could feel his touch. When he reached the end of the line, he smoothly slid his hand under the fabric of her shirt and cupped her breast. His thumb rolled over her nipple and it rose to him instantly; Eliya tilted her hips against him in response. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck, her fingernails scratching along his scalp through the mass of perfect blonde curls.

Now he repeated the journey his fingers had made, but this time with his mouth. His tongue travelled along the line of her vallaslin, and he tugged her blouse out of the way with his teeth. She made a small noise as the heat of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. Dampness begin to spread between her thighs as his mouth exalted her breasts, and his hand still gripping her waist pressed her firmly against his growing erection.

All the desire she had felt for him in the last few months was pooling deep inside her; she wanted to finally act out all the fantasies she had imagined of their being together. She wondered if he had imagined it as often as she had; whether he had forced himself to ignore his want and think of other things as she had done when enduring her vallaslin. Part of her wanted him to have ached for her; she wanted to know that his mouth had run dry at the sight of her and that he had fantasised about how he might make love to her, how he might make her his own.

He had, of course, done all those things, and right now he was just about ready to remove his clothes and take her like a wild animal on the dusty floor - or against the bookshelves. _Yes, the bookshelves._

Unfortunately that plan was killed by the sound of footfalls in the corridor and Cassandra’s voice as she called out, “Inquisitor, are you down here? Varric said he saw you head this way…”

Eliya giggled as she took in the thunderous look on Cullen's face. _Could they not have even five minutes to themselves in this damned castle?_

She scrambled off him and began to re-do her buttons as she called back to Cassandra. Cullen stood and walked awkwardly to face the bookshelf on the opposing wall - his pants were tight and he didn't want the Seeker to notice the definite hardness there.

Cassandra strode through the archway, already addressing Eliya. “I thought Varric might have been lying just to see me wandering around like a fool, I told him I had something important to discuss with you and - oh! Commander Cullen - Varric _did not_ mention that you were with the Inquisitor.”

She sounded embarrassed, obviously picking up on what kind of situation she had interrupted. Cullen simply nodded over his shoulder in acknowledgement, still facing the wall. Eliya, however, laughed.

“Looks like it was us he wanted to make a fool out of, Cass! Lucky we weren't down here for much longer or you might have stumbled in on something else.” she teased.

Cassandra made a disapproving noise. “Yes, well… I didn't mean to interrupt, but a report has just arrived and that requires your urgent attention. It needs to be addressed before the war council today.”

“Of course. I'll see you a bit later, Cullen?” Eliya crossed the room and touched his shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her, rather self-consciously as Cassandra averted her eyes. “See you later,” he replied, and listened to their retreating footsteps before sinking back down onto the wooden bench.

As he sat in that dusty vault, Cullen cursed himself. He was trying not to think about the sight of that dark line on her skin, trying to distract himself from the taste and feel of her sweet breasts. This woman was absolutely the love of his life, and here he was letting himself consider rutting her against a wall like she was simply a drunken liaison he'd picked up in a tavern. _We've got our whole lives for that kind of sex - or at least I hope we do._ He wanted the first time he took her to bed to be romantic, special. That was unlikely to happen within the walls of Skyhold.

He needed the chance to get her away from all this, even for a short while. Actually, as he considered it, that wasn't such a bad idea. She deserved a break. And it would be more than just an excuse to get her into bed - it would be like a small, peaceful reprieve from all of the difficulty that now characterised her life. He wondered where they ought to go, and somewhere sprang to his mind surprisingly fast. The small stretch of lake near his old home in Honnleath. Back at Haven, when she'd told him how being in the forest brought her peace, he'd thought about going back to that place that had once been special to him. There was something meaningful in it - revisiting the past - and he knew she would like it too. Now he just needed a way to get her there.

\--

Eliya seemed preoccupied during their war council that afternoon. Cullen worried about whatever the urgent matter had been, and hoped it wouldn't put a stop to his plans to whisk her away. He'd given it some thought and realised that he needed to take a small force of men down into the Hinterlands, and it would be easy to ask her to go with him. And the more he noticed how tired and stressed she looked, the more he thought it was a good idea.

“Inquisitor - may I have a moment?” Cullen asked quietly as Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra walked out the door, Leliana throwing them a mischievous smirk.

“Am I back to being Inquisitor, then?” Eliya asked in faux outrage. Cullen's hand sprang up to rub the back of his neck.

“Only when we are speaking in a professional setting… I mean, it's important that I show respect for your position. I suppose I can just call you by your name…” he replied uncertainly.

“I think we ought to have pet names for each other. How about I call you Cully-Wully and you can call me - I don't know, ‘hot-lips’ or ‘cuddle-nug’ or something? Really rub our happiness in people's faces,” she retorted.

“Very funny. How about sweet cheeks?” he suggested, playfully swatting at her ass.

“On second thought, Inquisitor is fine, O’ Commander of my heart.”

“Good to know. Now come here,” he ordered, and she stepped into his embrace. He loved that she was short enough for him to press his lips against the top of her head, her face fitting into the hollow of his throat.  

“Sorry about the interruption earlier,” she mumbled, her breath tickling his skin.

“Don't be sorry, it's fine. What was the urgent matter? Is everything alright?”

She sighed sadly. “Remember I told you about the suspicious bandits that were threatening my clan, and how we found out they were bought by the Duke of Wycome? Leliana's people did some digging and it looks like there's some kind of plague in Wycome, and Duke Antoine is trying to make my people the scapegoats for it.”

Cullen's stomach tightened. People were always far too willing to believe the worst of elves, the Dalish in particular. From all that Eliya had told him of her clan, they lived peacefully alongside the city of Wycome - and yet it wouldn't take much for the humans to turn against them.

“Did you - what have you decided to do?”

“It's such a dangerous situation. If we push from the wrong direction, or make it more widely known what is happening, there's a real chance someone's going to try and destroy my clan just to make things simpler. Even if Josie's diplomats ask too many questions it could end up badly. I asked Leliana to send some of her agents in, to find out what they could to neutralise the Duke. Maybe some kind of blackmail, I don't know. I just wish I could ride down there and tell him to stop being such a stupid prejudiced prick.”

Cullen laughed gruffly. “I'm sure Leliana's agents will figure something out, and they'll keep it quiet too.”

“I hope so. It just makes me realise how far I am from home.”

“Mmm. Speaking of home, there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“We have some dealings in Fereldan - I was hoping you might accompany me. When you have the time, of course.” Cullen tried to sound casual, but he didn’t quite pull it off. Eliya’s head shifted so she could peer up at his face, eyes narrowed.

“Is something wrong?”

“What? No. I would rather explain there… if you wish to go.”

Eliya smiled. “So mysterious. Well… we’re meant to be leaving for the Emerald Graves in a few days, and that will probably take a few weeks. I suppose it depends on how long your business can wait? Or… we could all set off together, and once we’re done I could continue on the way to the graves. Would that work?”

Cullen made a face - he didn’t want to wait until she had returned from her next journey, nor did his thoughts of their brief escape include any of the inner circle. “I… _had_ hoped that we might be able to go alone. But I suppose, as you’re the Inquisitor, that’s not likely to happen…”

“Don’t pout, Cullen, you poor thing. Gee, I wonder what you might have planned if you don’t want anyone else around?”

“That part is still a surprise.”

“Alright. I think we could make it work - we’ll bring the whole party along, but when we get to wherever or whatever you wanted to bring me to, we can leave them a few hours away. A combination of privacy and expediency, what do you think?”

There were a few towns not far from Honnleath where a larger group could rest comfortably, perhaps recruit some more soldiers or make themselves amenable to the locals. His real concern was which of Eliya's companions would be joining them, and how much grief they would have to withstand.

_Do you really care if someone makes fun of you for spending time with her? Is it such a bad thing for people to know?_

Cullen would have preferred more privacy when it came to their relationship, but the simple truth was that they were both in very visible positions of authority. Perhaps it was not so much the thought of people knowing that he wanted to take her to bed that bothered him. It was more that he didn't want their relationship to change the way people treated _her_ \- she deserved the respect she had earned.

_She earned that respect without your help and she doesn't need you being prudish to help her keep it._

“Privacy and expediency. Sounds like a good idea, my lady.”

“Ooh, ‘my lady’ now? I'm looking forward to our date _, my lion._ ” She replied with a chuckle. Cullen's heart warmed at the memory of that chess game so many months ago.

“I thought we agreed that mabari was a fairer description?”

“Lion on the battlefield, mabari in my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of NSFW, a little bit of fluff. Oh and I forgot to mention that I commissioned the awesome ceruleanbluesart to draw a pic of the OTP which you can check out here: http://laurarankine.tumblr.com/post/145934372420/ceruleanbluesart-another-commission-down-this 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	26. Stay in this moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen takes Eliya to the lake near his former home in Honnleath. Being out of Skyhold helps them see a slightly different side of each other.
> 
> "She could picture him, a cheerful little boy with blonde curls running about the fields. He said he had a wooden sword, and he and Branson would pretend to be Templars and Grey Wardens. Eliya felt fiercely protective of that little boy from the past. She wanted to shield him from everything she knew was coming."

They rode out a few days later, with a contingent of fifteen soldiers and Eliya's companions. She'd chosen Blackwall, Cole and Solas for this journey, and Cullen had to admit he was intrigued by what that group dynamic would look like. Eliya shared her time with everyone, but Cole and Solas seemed to band together whereas Cullen found himself often riding alongside Blackwall. They had developed an easy rapport, particularly after Blackwall had taught him to carve the gift for Eliya. It helped that Blackwall clearly held the Inquisitor in very high regard and was dedicated to protecting her, but his romantic interest was channeled towards the Lady Ambassador. He'd never admit it, but that made Cullen feel a lot more comfortable with the man - particularly in comparison with Solas. Cullen hadn't forgotten the way the apostate had looked at him after he had carried Eliya back up the mountain after Haven.

Winter was starting to set in, so even when they made it down from the mountains the landscape was cold. Eliya's magic ensured they had good fires each night, and he found out that she regularly imbued the tents of those she traveled alongside with wards that trapped the heat and kept them comfortable. 

On the third night, Cullen sat down next to Blackwall on the opposite side of the fire to Eliya. He had thought to join in the Warden’s carving, but instead he found himself watching Eliya through the smoke and flames. She'd had a little whiskey and her cheeks were flushed, eyes dancing in the firelight. The soldiers she sat with were making her laugh and she was telling them stories in return. Cullen marveled at how she could be so many things to so many people. In the beginning she had always been guarded with everyone, and he remembered her telling him that she wasn't good with humans or people in general. It was clear to him now that all she had ever needed to do was be herself, let her shining personality and genuine goodness show, and people would love her.

“That's going well then?” came Blackwall’s gruff voice. Cullen knew he had been staring fixedly at Eliya, so he didn't have to guess what the other man was talking about.

“I believe so.”

“Good. The lass deserves someone decent to make her happy. I always thought she had her eye on you.”

Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Across the fire, the soldier sitting next to Eliya got up to leave, and she met Cullen's eyes across the fire. 

“Go on then,” Blackwall urged, and Cullen didn't need telling twice. He made his way across to the now empty spot by Eliya's side and slipped his arm around her waist. She snuggled into his side instinctively, and he turned his head to whisper in her ear.

“You look exquisite tonight, my lady. All flushed and breathless in the firelight.”

He let his lips graze the shell of her ear and felt her quiver against him. Feeling brave, he added, “I'd like to see you this way more often.”

“My my, Commander. Your soldiers will all gossip,” she playfully chastened him. 

“I'd be more disappointed if there was nothing for them to comment on,” he replied in a low voice. Her hand tightened on his knee. 

“How far are we from wherever it is you are taking me?” she asked, looking up at Cullen through her eyelashes. The firelight made her hair look like molten gold. 

“Only half a day at most. We should be alone tomorrow night.”

She smiled slowly and wickedly, before stretching up to whisper in his __ ear. 

“Then I'd best go and get a good night's sleep,” she purred. Cullen's stomach clenched and it took a great deal of self control not to follow her swaying hips as she retreated to her tent. 

_ Tomorrow night.  _

\---

They reached Beresford, a town just north of Honnleath, by early afternoon the next day. Cullen saw his men settled at one of the two inn's and left them with orders to make themselves useful.

He and Eliya departed with supplies for two days and a few glowering looks from Solas. Surprisingly, they only lifted Cullen's spirits. He maintained an appropriate level of wariness as they rode together, but mostly he was blissful in finally getting some real time with her, without responsibilities or interruptions. They laughed and shared stories and even raced their horses once or twice along alluringly straight stretches of road. The countryside around them was familiar in a strange way - like someone had told him about it once, rather than it being the place where the first part of his life was spent.  

Eliya had been a good sport about the mystery of it all, but stopped her horse short when they came to a road sign at the crossroads that led to Honnleath. She stared up at the words for a moment, then turned to Cullen, eyes wide. 

“We're going to your home?”

“Ah… what  _ used  _ to be home. Where I grew up. Is that alright?”

Her face lit up with a beaming smile. “I'd  _ love  _ to see where you grew up!” Cullen laughed, gratified by her enthusiasm. 

“This way then, my lady.”

\---

Eliya knew she had a stupid smile plastered on her face but there was nothing else for it. They'd spend the rest of the afternoon walking and riding through the town of Honnleath and the surrounding farmland. Cullen took her by the farm that used to be his family's, and told her about his life there. 

She could picture him, a cheerful little boy with blonde curls running about the fields. He said he had a wooden sword, and he and Branson would pretend to be Templars and Grey Wardens. Eliya felt fiercely protective of that little boy from the past. She wanted to shield him from everything she knew was coming. But that wasn't how the world worked. Cullen seemed to be steadily improving though - this little break was doing him good. He had been in high spirits all day, and his smile was different from the usual smirk he directed her way - it was brighter, changing his face and giving her a glimpse of what he might have been like before all the hardship in his life.

As it started to grow dark, Eliya asked if they ought to go and get a room at the inn for the night. Cullen told her there was one more place he wanted to show her. 

The forest at the edge of the town was full of the chirping of birds as they returned to nests for the night, and the fading sunlight shone through the tree trunks to cast long shadows across the ground. It was beautiful here - so different to the wildness of the forests she had grown up in. They passed another person on the road, a farmer with a broad hat like Coles’ and a greying moustache. Cullen gave him a friendly wave and Eliya saw the flicker of recognition in the old man's face.

“Did you know him?” she asked quietly once they were further down the road.

“I often saw him when I came down this road as a boy. He'd always smile and ask me where I was headed. He must have moved back here after the Blight. Mia’s letters said everyone fled like they did.”

“Why didn't you say anything to him? Tell him who you are?” Eliya was curious.

Cullen shrugged his shoulders. “It was a lifetime ago now. I doubt he remembers me. And even if he did… I'm not that person anymore.”

They were quiet for the next little while. Eliya loved this time of evening, the way things started to get quiet and the air became more chilly. It would be a cold night tonight, and likely a frosty morning. If things went the way she planned, she'd have Cullen to warm her up through it all. 

Eventually they reached a small track branching off the road and Cullen said they should leave their horses tied up in a hollow not far along. Once they were sorted he took her hand and led her towards the sound of gently lapping water. The trees opened up to reveal a lake, dark green in the moonlight, with a small floating dock. Mist was rising over the water. It was a lovely sight.

“Where are we?" Eliya asked.   
  
"You walk into danger every day. I wanted to take you away from that, if only for a moment. This place was always quiet." He'd leaned against the post at one end of the dock, looking impossibly dashing and very much at ease. She loved this side of him, comfortable and confident.   
  
"Did you come here often?"   
  
"I loved my siblings, but they were very loud. I would come here to clear my head. Of course, they always found me eventually."   
  
"You were happy here?"   
  
"I was. I still am. I hadn't thought about this place for the longest time, until... do you remember that day I met you in the woods outside Haven?"   
  
"Of course. You wouldn't climb trees with me."   
  
Cullen chuckled. "I never was one for climbing trees. But you said something that day, about finding peace when you were alone with nature. It made me think of this place and how it used to make me feel. It was the first happy memory I'd had in a long time, and it was because of you. And it was the first time I felt like I actually understood something about you. I held on to those things, even before I... before I realized  _ why _ I smiled whenever I thought about those ten minutes out in the woods with you. So I wanted to bring you here, because in my head, this place and you are so tied to each other and I... I thought you'd like it here."

"It's beautiful.” Eliya reached her hands out to Cullen and he interlaced his fingers with hers, pulling her close so that their foreheads pressed together. “Close your eyes and breathe with me, Cullen. Listen.”

She guided him at first until their chests rose and fell in sync. At first, all there was to hear were the songs of crickets and the splashes of the water. But soon the voices  of the trees followed, like words carried on the wind. She felt Cullen stiffen beside her and knew he was hearing them too. 

“Is it… magic?” he asked with uncertainty. 

“I suppose so,” she whispered back. “But not magic like the type that mages use. It's older… the kind of magic that was used to knit the world into being.”

He wouldn't understand what the trees were saying - she didn't, even after all her years of listening. But it wasn't so much the exact meaning of the words that mattered - it was how they made you feel. Here by this lake, the song they sang was one of pain and war being wiped away by the planting of seeds, the harvests of new beginnings. It was about hope - and that's exactly what Eliya needed.   
  
"Trees, stars, and you - all my favourite things together at last. And while we're here you have me all alone..."   
  
"The thought may have crossed my mind," Cullen replied with a smirk, and pulled back from her to cast his eyes across the lake.   
  
"The last time I was here was the day I left for templar training. My brother gave me this." He pulled something small and round from his pocket - a single coin. "It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through."   
  
"You broke the Order's rules? I'm shocked." Eliya teased him.   
  
"Until a year ago, I was very good at following orders. Most of the time. This was the only thing I took from Fereldan that the templars didn't give me." 

Eliya looked at the coin in Cullen's hand, and something new about him slid into place. He was sentimental, not in a fussy or over-the-top way, but - he held tightly to things that reminded him of good times. That must have been why he had thought of the wooden halla in the first place… he wanted to give  _ her _ something to hold on to. When Eliya's head rose and she met his eyes, Cullen slipped the coin from his palm into hers, and closed her fingers over the top.   
  
"Humor me. We don't know what you'll face before the end. This can't hurt."   
  
"I'll keep it safe,” Eliya replied as Cullen pulled her back into his arms.   
  
"Good. I know it's foolish but... I'm glad."

She rose up on the balls of her feet to kiss him, arms around his neck and hands running through his hair. He held tightly to her waist and it didn't take long before he deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting hers more forcefully, one hand sliding underneath her jacket to brush her skin. She arched her back, pressing her chest up against his and moaning a little into his mouth. Without his usual armour she could feel the strength and hardness of his muscled body, the warmth that emanated from him.

“Void take me, the things I want to do with you,” he groaned. She released his mouth as he spoke and started to kiss along his jawline and throat, letting her tongue dart out to taste the tang of his skin after a day of riding, feeling the scratch of his stubble against her lips. 

“There's no time like the present,” she whispered back, stretching up on her tiptoes to bite gently on his earlobe. The noise he made was animalistic, like a predator once its prey was within grasp. The amber eyes that stared down at her held the same darkness - and she felt a little thrill in the knowledge that she would willingly and gladly surrender herself to the appetite of this hunter - her lion.

“I ought to take you back to the -”

Cullen stopped mid-sentence as he and Eliya both snapped their attention in the direction of the shore. A loud whinny had broken through the quiet night air - the kind their horses made when someone was nearby.

“Quick, we must get back to the treeline,” Cullen said in a harsh whisper. They ran together towards the shore, and Cullen led her through the trees silently until they reached a shadowy spot. Eliya wasn't sure how likely it was that they were in danger, but her heart was beating very fast. She peered through the trees, trying to distinguish any movement near their horses, who still waited calmly in their clearing. That was a good sign. Then Eliya heard a slow and quiet voice coming from the clearing.

“Didn't mean to scare you. Hope I don't scare them… he won't be expecting me, expecting to be alone… together but alone, happy without the noise of everyone else in their heads. You don't make that kind of noise, I try not to…”

Eliya knew the voice, but what was he doing here?

“Cole?” she called out into the night, and she felt Cullen grab the hilt of his sword and curse under his breath. She probably ought to have warned him. But then a pale face hidden under a very large hat and straw-like blonde hair appeared from between the two horses.

“You're there? I scared you…”

“Yes Cole, it's us. Why are you here? Have you been following us all day?”

Eliya walked out from their hiding place and into the clearing, Cullen half a step behind. She could feel his tension still.

“No, not all day. It was hours after you left they came rushing… urgent news, lots of worry. I came because I could find you the fastest…” Cole recounted in his cryptic way of speaking.

“Urgent news? What's happened?” Cullen asked sharply.

“A letter from Skyhold. Eliya needs to go back, didn't say why. Just very important that she goes back. Will you go back?”

“Of course I will! You're sure that's all the letter said? Cullen, I'm sorry, we have to…” Eliya turned to him with a note of panic in her voice.

“I know. Mount up, we will head back to Beresford and figure out what is going on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Cullen keeps getting cockblocked. What do we think the urgent news is? 
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely feedback!!!


	27. Hard to hope with nothing to hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clan Lavellan has fallen. 
> 
> "She felt a roaring, rushing sound building up between her ears, and the paper in her hands let up a wisp of smoke.
> 
> “I'm so sorry, Eliya, my friend,” came Josephine’s voice, but it seemed far away. On the other side of the crashing wave that now engulfed her. Then it was quiet as her eyes rolled back and her body fell to the floor."

Eliya wasn't crying. Instead her eyes fixed on the words before her, wide with horror.

_Da'len,_ _  
_

_I know not whether this will reach you. The Duke of Wycome is dead, and the soldiers of Wycome blame us. All the elves in the city have been killed, blamed for some plague that only strikes down humans. Now they hunt us as well._   
  
_Most of the clan is already dead._   
  
_Live well, da'len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you. They are coming for us._

 

She felt a roaring, rushing sound building up between her ears, and the paper in her hands let up a wisp of smoke.

“I'm so sorry, Eliya, my friend,” came Josephine’s voice, but it seemed far away. On the other side of the crashing wave that now engulfed her. Then it was quiet as her eyes rolled back and her body fell to the floor.

\---

They'd ridden hard for Beresford, hoping for some answers, but found none. As Cole had said, the note requested that Eliya return to Skyhold as a matter of urgency. It couldn't have been Corypheus, they thought, as it didn't ask for _everyone_ to return - but maybe Josephine thought that would be obvious? After a very brief discussion, it was decided that Cullen's men would continue on to the Hinterlands without his escort and Eliya would return to Skyhold as fast as possible with the other four men in tow.

They rode relentlessly, their horses pushed to the limit, but made it back to Skyhold in just over half the time their parting journey had taken. Eliya had headed straight for Josephine's office outside the war room while the others squared away their travelling things. Before any of them had a chance to go into the main hall and check what was going on, Josephine had come rushing out to find a healer.

\---

When she came to, Eliya found herself lying on a couch in Josephine’s quarters, with someone staring down at her. “Are you alright, your worship? Lady Montiliyet says you've had a nasty shock, but is there anything else wrong?”

Eliya shook her head and sat up, head spinning. She didn't think she could speak if she tried, but she needed to get out of here.

“Oh no, my lady, you must stay and rest. Lady Montiliyet has gone to fetch a healer, they'll be-”

Eliya cut her off as she stood and positively ran from the room. Her feet carried her easily without direction from her addled mind; soon she was flying across the keep and out one of the gates. A little way down the mountain there was a copse of trees, towering giants that seemed as old as the castle itself. Passing by the first few trunks, Eliya felt her hammering heart begin to ease as the oppression of those stone walls replaced itself with the embrace of nature.

She picked a likely looking tree and began to climb. The branches were thick and strong, like a ladder that had been waiting for someone to put it to use. Up and up she went, until she couldn't go any further and slid to sit down with her back pressed up against the trunk. _That_ was when she cried.

They were all gone. The children she had grown up with. The hunters and the healers and the craftsmen, the mothers and their new babies. Her family, every person she had really ever known before the conclave. It didn't matter that they had never been the type of family she had hoped for. She knew every detail of each of their faces from memory - and all those lives were now lost.

Deshanna. For so many years, the Keeper had been the centre of her universe, her source of love and understanding and companionship. Someone who saw that she was different and helped her find a way to make sense of things; to embrace being herself. She hadn't wanted to bother Eliya at first with her concerns about the threats the clan were facing. _You have enough on your shoulders representing your people._

Eliya hadn't done enough to keep them safe. She thought of all the last months of working for the Inquisition, helping in whatever way she could, even in the most menial tasks. When she got the letter from Deshanna, she should have gotten on her horse and left then and there. She should have known that they'd be targeted.

All those lives. Not just the Lavellan, but the city elves as well. They'd been slaughtered out of manufactured fear and deep seated prejudice. Even though her people had lived peacefully alongside Wycome for so many years. Did anyone protest when the Duke blamed the Dalish and the city elves for their problems? Or was it simply accepted, that of course it must be them, those filthy beings they'd tolerated for too long?

Eliya's hands shook with anger at everything. She clenched them into fists and stuffed them in her mouth, teeth clamping down on the flesh of her knuckles. It muffled the half-screams, half-sobs she was releasing into the still quiet of this tiny haven.

Eventually the storm in her subsided, enough that she could take a deep breath and clear her head. She wondered how long she had been gone. Had Josephine told the others? Would they be looking for her? She felt like her friends and advisors were a world away - impossibly separate from her old life and the pain she now felt.

“Eliya?”

The voice was quiet, sweet and plaintive. She wondered for a moment who it could be. Then she looked down and saw Cullen, stripped down to his shirt and trousers, balancing on a branch just below. His hands held tight, white-knuckled to the tree, but his eyes were fixed on her.

“Cullen? What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.

“I've been calling out to you, but you didn't answer so I… I'm not sure I can come up any higher but I wanted - to be here for you.” he replied. His beautiful amber eyes were so full of warmth and sadness it made her melt.

“You climbed a tree for me?”

“Yes, I - it might have been a rash decision. I haven't had the balls to look down and see how high up we are just yet.”

Even amongst her tears Eliya laughed - a gurgling giggle that made her feel a little lighter. Cullen was looking up at her like a sweet puppy, and she was so thankful. Slowly, so she wouldn't make him panic, Eliya climbed down to his branch. She pressed her tear-stained face into the hollow of his neck, wrapping one arm around his waist and pressing the other to the tree trunk for balance. He took a deep breath in and released one hand from it's vice like grip on the branch above so he could comfort her. Everything felt quieter when his arms were around her.

“I'm so sorry, Eliya.” His whispered sympathy was simple and heartfelt, just like the man himself. She stood there with him for a few moments, listening to his heart pounding, and then looked up at him with a hint of a smile.

“Shall we talk about it back on the ground?”

“If that's what you want I'd certainly appreciate it.”

She led him back down - it really was quite a way up - showing him the best footholds and branches to hold his weight. It was a good distraction. “Thank the Maker,” he exhaled with relief when his feet hit the forest floor with a thud. Then his attention returned to Eliya, hands reaching out to brush the tears from her cheeks and hold her to him once more. She was glad he'd abandoned his armour for the purposes of climbing the tree - it made his embrace all the more gentle. He took one of her hands in his own, worriedly tracing the marks that her teeth had left and raising it to his lips as though he planned to kiss away her pain.

“I asked the others to wait back up at the castle - so you didn't have to talk to anyone if you didn't want to. But I can go and get Dorian, or Cassandra or Cole or anyone for you. Just say the word.” he offered.

Eliya shook her head and replied, “I just want you.”

She saw a gratified smile flicker across his face, before he leant down and swept her feet out so that he held her like a child in his arms. Then he sat down with his back against the tree trunk with her in his lap. He didn't speak, nor did he force her to. Eliya was quiet for a time, concentrating on the way they had begun to breathe in sync and watching his fingers as they stroked her hands.

“It's my fault they died.” she whispered.

“Why do you think that?” he replied calmly.

“They were targeted because I'm the Inquisitor. I knew it would happen and I didn't do enough to stop it.”

“What else might you have done?”

“When I heard they were in trouble I should have ridden to Wycome myself. I should have fought for them. Or at least sent our army in to stand with them!”

“What were your reasons for not doing that?”

“I - I didn't want to do anything that might make people turn against them. With elves,  there's always going to be a risk of backlash and retaliation. I asked Leliana to help because I thought it would be better to keep things quiet. I hoped they would be able to figure it out and take the actions necessary to protect the clan, without having the Inquisition involved.  Then maybe they'd be safer from people who would want to lure us into a fight in the future,” Eliya replied slowly.

“Those sound like good reasons to me.”

“It doesn't matter if they were good reasons - my plan didn't work. It didn't keep them safe.”

“I know.  But you don't know what result any other course of action would have caused either,” Cullen explained reasonably. “I'm sorry, this probably isn't helping.  I just don't want you to feel guilty over this when all you've ever done is make decisions to try and keep people safe. You should blame myself and your advisors first. Or Duke Antoine most of all. Would it make you feel better if I vowed to deliver you his head on a pike?”

That prompted a small smile from Eliya. She liked his way of trying to comfort her. It was logic that she knew to be true but couldn't grasp at in her grief.

“That's probably not a good idea.”

“Maybe not. We could attack the city, try to find the people who killed your clan and bring them to justice.”

“It’d take a lot to claim a whole city… and it pronably wouldn't look good for the Inquisition? I don't know. I just - even if I give them justice, it won't bring them back Cullen. They're gone and I couldn't save them.”

Cullen made a hum of understanding low in his throat as he kissed her forehead.

“I'm just tired of living in a world where things like this happen so easily. Someone decides that elves are guilty of whatever problem, and they are massacred without a second thought. I'm tired of people choosing what kind of lives matter most. I wanted to use the Inquisition to change that. To show our world that elves, dwarves, qunari, commoners, nobles, mages - whatever a person is born as, they can still be an equal part of a cause for a better world. But I keep being beaten down by the weight of a reality that says people like me are nothing. I don't know if it's worth the effort to keep fighting.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Tell me, Eliya. If a person lived every day of their life being good and fair and kind, and their actions helped the people they encountered to live a better and happier life, but in the big picture did nothing to stem the tide of injustice, would you consider it a wasted life?”

“No, it wouldn't be a waste.”

“That's because they did make the world a better place, even if it was only along the path they walked. You can't lose your spirit, Eliya. You've already changed so much - just look at the Inquisition. All those different kinds of people you mentioned, working alongside each other as brothers, overcoming their prejudices. Maker, you've done so much to change _me_. Don't think it doesn't mean anything. I'm certain that people like you are the only ones who ever really _can_ change our world - we just need more of you.”

“You're very good at making me feel better,” she said, lifting her head to look into his eyes. He smiled back down at her.

“If I could take this burden away, I would. I wish that I could bear all your pain for you.”

Eliya leaned in to kiss him, finding solace in his lips.

“We should go back to the castle, I suppose. I don't want the others to worry,” she sighed eventually.

“Alright. Just give me a minute to put my armour back on,” Cullen replied, and Eliya unfolded herself from his lap. While he reapplied his various pieces of plate, Eliya walked over to another of the trees and rested her forehead against the bark.

“Did you read the letter from Deshanna?” she asked suddenly.

“Ah - no. There wasn't time. Josephine informed me of the essentials of the situation.”

“Deshanna wrote, ’ _Live well, Da len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you_.”

“And so you do. No one will forget the name of Lavellan.”

“But it won't be because of them. It will be because of me, however this all turns out. Lavellan will forever be the name of the Inquisitor, and not the name of her innocent people who died because of hate. Not only did my notoriety lead to their death, it's also going to lead to them being forgotten.”

Cullen didn't seem to have a response for this, so she stepped back from the tree and looked over at him.

“Remember when I told you there is a tree in the Emerald Graves for every elf that fell during the exalted marches? When we went to the Exalted Plains, I saw the trees, and I knew what they meant. I prayed for those lost people and I remembered them. But there will be no forest planted for my people. There is no one there to bury them, to plant trees in their memory. No one to carve their oak staff or lay them to rest with the cedar branch. No one to say a prayer that they might meet the gods beyond the grave. They are alone.”

She was crying again, heavy tears welling up in her eyes and falling on the dry leaves underfoot. Cullen walked over to take her hands in his.

“What are the words for your prayer? Tell me, and I'll say it with you.”

“But you don't believe in the elven gods.”

“Maybe not. But I'll say a prayer to the Maker as well, and between us we will have their souls well covered.”

Together they prayed, Cullen stumbling over the words in elvhen. Eliya heard the trees whispering on the wind, adding their voices to the prayer for the fallen. It wasn't much, but it was something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'( I think they really gloss over the death of the Inquisitors' clan if that happens in your playthrough. I barely noticed it until it came up in another fic I was reading. As soon as I read the Keeper's letter in this version of events I knew I had to work it into this story. 
> 
> Good on you guys that picked up my admittedly not subtle hints leading up to this :) I am pretty proud of this chapter, I think of it as a very important part of Cullen and Eliya's relationship. The next chapter has some good follow up - I'll post it before the weekend. Also FYI I'm headed to Europe as of next week so my writing and publishing schedule will be a little out of whack but I'll still try to post at least once a week. 
> 
> Let me know if you liked this chapter! Thanks as always for reading


	28. Words that carve our lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya continues to grieve the loss of her clan, and her companions find ways of helping her through. 
> 
> "hahren na melana sahlin  
> emma ir abelas  
> souver'inan isala hamin  
> vhenan him dor'felas  
> in uthenera na revas  
> vir sulahn'nehn  
> vir dirthera  
> vir samahl la numin  
> vir lath sa'vunin"

Over the next few days everyone did their part to show support; whether it was trying to make her feel better or letting her feel sad when that was what she needed. Dorian brought copious amounts of wine and held her hand; Sera hand cookies and crass jokes; Iron Bull offered to hit Eliya really hard with a stick to let her feelings out. This time she politely declined, but she did find some catharsis in hitting the training dummies with her staff and setting them ablaze. Cole put her memories of the clan into words and Leliana promised her vengeance - but there was no vengeance that would change what had happened. Vengeance wouldn't ease the guilt and sorrow that still weighed upon her. 

Then one morning she was speaking to Varric when she noticed how quiet the main hall was. Just after breakfast time it was usually buzzing with activity as the various inhabitants of Skyhold started their daily routines - today there was almost no one around.

“Where is everyone?” she asked Varric.

“That's probably my queue to take you outside, Sunflower,” Varric replied with a smug smile as Eliya's eyes widened.

“Why? What's going on?”

“I'm not going to spoil the surprise. Come on, follow me.”

Eliya had no idea what was going on, even as he led her out of the castle gates and down towards that small copse she had fled to days ago. Right then the scene looked entirely different, because a large crowd was gathered before the patch of trees - Eliya might have thought that all of Skyhold was there. 

As Varric guided her to the front of the crowd, she saw Cullen standing proudly before a patch of freshly turned soil. Three saplings had been planted there, far enough apart to give them room to grow and in the best place to give them sunlight and water while also being sheltered from the weather. “What is all this?” she asked him with great curiosity.

“You said there was no one to plant the trees for your clan, or to remember them. So we uh - planted some. I now they don't look like much right now, but give them time and they'll be as tall as all the others.” Cullen explained.

“We've sent word to every Inquisition camp and outpost to plant their own trees as well,” Josephine added. “And every tree will have it's own marker like this one.” She gestured one hand to a large stone with a flat face. Upon it were carved the words, 

_ in uthenera na revas _

Remember Clan Lavellan

The elven words came from the eulogy of her people - and somehow, they had chosen Eliya's favourite part. And the words in Common - they would tell people all across Thedas the name of her family. 

“We will tell the story of your people, and these markers will ensure that people are reminded of what they have heard,” Leliana added quietly. 

Eliya was overcome. She sank to her knees, one hand stretched out to trace the letters carved into the stone as tears rolled down her cheeks.

The pain of losing her people was still bitter, but this tribute was far beyond anything Eliya could have managed on her own. It was perfect in its combination of scale and humility. Nothing flashy or dramatic, just trees - but trees that would stand all across Thedas. 

Eliya realised she was missing an important detail - she raised her eyes and scanned the circle around her with uncertainty. Varric stepped forward and patted her on the shoulder, answering the question on her lips without prompting.

“It was all Curly’s idea. He gave the orders and we helped carry them out.”

On her other side, Cullen held out his hand to help Eliya back to her feet. Once upright, she launched herself into his arms. It was, she would realise later, the first time they had shown any outright sign of their affection with an audience of Inquisition followers. It didn't really matter - theirs was surely amongst the worst kept secrets in Skyhold. What mattered to Eliya was this man, this thoughtful, kind human… He had given her a gift she didn't even know she needed until it was there in front of her. He had listened to her pain and her regrets and found a way to ease them so beautifully. 

“It's not much, but…” he began, but she stopped him mid-sentence.

“This is... wonderful. Thank you, Cullen,  _ ma vhenan. _ Truly.” She managed a grateful smile through her tears, and Cullen responded with the most endearing puppy-dog eyes imaginable. 

Eliya stayed down by the copse until well after everyone else returned to their daily tasks. Cullen lingered for a while, but had the sense to know that she wanted to be alone this time. 

When everything was quiet and the sun was out from behind the clouds, Eliya spoke the eulogy of her people, in a voice that was carried by the wind. 

_ hahren na melana sahlin _ __   
_ emma ir abelas _ __   
_ souver'inan isala hamin _ __   
_ vhenan him dor'felas _ __   
_ in uthenera na revas _ __   
_ vir sulahn'nehn _ __   
_ vir dirthera _ __   
_ vir samahl la numin _ _   
_ __ vir lath sa'vunin

The words would become part of what the trees whispered - part of the story of this place, for whomever chose to listen.

Then, on a whim, Eliya pulled out the knife she kept in her pocket and cut a deep line across the palm of her unmarked hand.

She watched as the blood dripped into the fresh soil, and spoke quietly. 

“I was born a Thirainduel, but my blood is Lavellan. I may never have found my true place amongst you, my family, but you will always be my people. I will carry your name with me. I will live well, Deshanna. Thank you - for everything.”

\---

Cullen was impressed by how quickly Eliya seemed to return to her usual self after the day of the memorial. She did always have a way of holding in her troubles, though, and he suspected that she was still experiencing a great deal of grief.

He was also quietly pleased with himself. While he wished that Eliya would never have to go through such a trial, he seemed to have done well at comforting her, and that was a first. In the past he had been someone who avoided such emotional situations, as he never knew what to say or do. If needed he'd offer an awkward pat on the shoulder or a stilted, “I'm sorry,” but it was all platitude and he seriously doubted whether it helped at all. 

Whereas Eliya - she had wanted  _ only  _ him to be there and hold her. She had been so moved by his idea with the trees. Now that the worst of it had passed, every so often he'd catch her eye and even in just a look he'd know she needed a hug or a moment to catch her breath. This was what it must be like to have someone you really loved - even though he hadn't uttered those words to her yet. 

The only problem with Eliya's ability to soldier on was that her journey to the Emerald Graves was back on the table. They would be leaving in just a few days, and Cullen no longer had an excuse to follow her out on the road. 

Time seemed to come in fits and spurts, stealing every opportunity he might have spent with her until it was the afternoon before her departure. Cullen was headed back to his office for what promised to be a long strategy and logistics meeting with his captains. He also had the beginnings of an awful headache. 

“Might I have a word, Commander?”

Halfway across the rotunda, he was surprised to be stopped by Solas. They usually only nodded in acknowledgement or ignored each other entirely.

“Ah - of course. How may I help you?”

“I wanted to convey my… _approval_  for the kind gesture you made for our lady Inquisitor in the wake of her loss. It was well done.”

“Oh. Er - thank you, but it was… I simply thought it would be meaningful for her,” Cullen replied, taken aback. 

“And that it was. You  _ seem _ to understand her quite well.” 

There was something about the way Solas said this that made Cullen bristle. 

“She and I have spent a great deal of time getting to know each other.”

The elfs’ eyes flared slightly at that, but his voice remained calm. 

“I have noticed. What is there between the two of you?”

Cullen almost laughed. “And here I thought everyone in Skyhold already knew our business. You travelled with us for several days, Solas - you must be aware that the Inquisitor and I are... involved.”

“I have heard the rumours and seen your interactions but those things do not speak to the heart of the matter.” Solas replied cryptically. 

“The heart of the matter? That would be that I  _ love  _ her - and I have cause to hope that she feels the same way,” Cullen replied without a second thought, the confession that he had not yet made to Eliya flowing easily from his lips. “Yet I'm not sure what business that is of yours.”

The tension in the air between them crackled at this challenge but Cullen stayed firm.

“You are not the only one who cares about her, Commander.” Solas replied with a sneer. “However, if things are as you say they are, I will not stand in the way.”

“You say that as though if you decided otherwise, you might have some say in the situation. That anything  _ you  _ feel might change things between she and I.”

The two men stared each other down, and Cullen’s fist was tightly clenched. It was either in preparation to punch the elf or to give him a distraction to prevent himself from doing so - Cullen wasn't certain. His patience was further tested when Solas smiled.

“While I'm sure your  _ attraction  _ might be the only thing on your mind at present, have you even considered what future there is in this thing between you? Do you recognise the obstacles you would face? What kind of life could  _ you  _ really give her? Or were you planning on ignoring such questions until such a time that to face them will leave her at risk of heartbreak?” Solas replied spitefully. Cullen's stomach clenched. 

“I will fight for her with everything I have. And you - do you honestly believe that you can give her more than that?” Cullen growled.

To his surprise, the elf faltered. It was the look of a man so caught in an argument that he had forgotten himself. 

“No. I cannot.”

“Remember that, then. Know that I will remain by her side until such a day that she no longer wants me there. Whatever I have to offer, it is hers. I know the Inquisitor values your friendship and advice. If that was not the case then I would have you gone from this castle in a heartbeat. Do not test my patience like this again.” Cullen's blood thundered in his ears as he turned to march out of the rotunda. 

“If you do anything to hurt her, I will see that you suffer for it,” Solas called at his retreating back. 

As though he ever would. As though he wouldn't lay his very life at her feet. 

Cullen was ashamed at how close Solas’ words had cut him. But it was a question Cullen realised he _hadn't_ given much thought. Everything was so focused on surviving this war. If he imagined a future beyond that, there was no question that he hoped Eliya would be by his side. 

Would she say the same? Cullen knew she was afraid that all of this would end with her death. Cullen also knew he would not allow that to happen. She had given enough.

Months ago Eliya had also told him that she didn't intend to return to her clan - which, Cullen recognized with a stab of pain, was no longer an option regardless. 

He stopped to take a final deep breath of cold mountain air before walking into the stuffy darkness of his office. There was work to be done - thoughts of the future would have to wait, for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I lied I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to update before I flew halfway around the world BUT I am in SCOTLAND PEOPLE. So exciting. 
> 
> I am so overwhelmed by all the kudos and comments from the last chapter. As I said, it is one of my favorites so I'm glad you all enjoyed it :)
> 
> The elven in this chapter is straight from the Dragon Age wiki - it means:
> 
> elder your time is come  
> now I am filled with sorrow  
> weary eyes need resting  
> heart has become grey and slow  
> in waking sleep is freedom  
> we sing, rejoice  
> we tell the tale  
> we laugh and cry  
> we love one more day
> 
> Solas was being a butthead because he likes Eliya too and he forgot about the whole Trespasser motivation thing for a while there.
> 
> New chapter when I get some down time from ADVENTURING


	29. To fill or burst (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Eliya finally get their chance...
> 
> "Halfway through his sentence, Cullen looked up and his eyes locked with Eliya's. Fingers pressed to her lips, she tilted her head ever so slightly in amusement as his words faltered. But Cullen swiftly picked up where he left off, a smirk now tugging at his scar."

Eliya didn't have a plan. She found that when she made plans, they rarely turned out the way she had thought. So rather than risking disappointment with the idea of showing up to the end of Cullen's meeting, taking him to bed and spending the night, Eliya had decided just to see where the night took them. Starting with showing up at the end of Cullen's meeting. 

Maybe she did have a plan after all.

The guard at Cullen's office door nodded at her in acknowledgement, but no one else seemed to notice as she slipped into the room and stood by the back wall. Cullen was in full Commander mode, issuing orders with a voice full of authority. The captains in the room all listened with rapt attention. Eliya felt a thrill of affection and pride.

“Rylen’s men will monitor the situation.”

“Yes, ser. We'll begin preparations at once.”

“In the meantime, we'll send soldiers to…”

Halfway through his sentence, Cullen looked up and his eyes locked with Eliya's. Fingers pressed to her lips, she tilted her head ever so slightly in amusement as his words faltered. But Cullen swiftly picked up where he left off, a smirk now tugging at his scar.

“...Assist with the relief effort. That will be all,” he dismissed the room. The soldiers promptly scrambled to leave, some of them now noticing Eliya at the back of the room. Cullen shooed them all out, closing the heavy door and sliding the bolt to lock it. Then he leaned forwards, hands bracing himself against the wood as he let his head fall forward with a sigh.

“There's always something more, isn't there?” 

He looked tired and stressed. He needs a distraction - or a way to relieve some of that tension.

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” Like your bedroom? Or back at that lake?

Cullen chuckled, looking up at her over his arm. Then, to her disappointment, began wandering back towards his desk.

“I barely found time to get away before. This war won't last forever. When it started I hadn't considered much beyond our survival. But things are different now.”

Something was definitely on his mind. He seemed to have reverted to that charming, awkward chantry boy, rather than the relaxed man that had emerged as their relationship progressed. Eliya pushed herself off the wall and followed behind him.

“What do you mean?”

Cullen stepped in closer, framing the side of her face with his gloved hand. Eliya closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

“I find myself wondering what will happen after… when this is over, I won't want to move on, not from you. But you've been through so much lately, and this is all so different from the life you used to lead.”

Eliya opened her eyes again in time to see his sweet smile flicker away into uncertainty. 

“I don't know what you… that is, if you… ah.”

“Cullen, do you really need to ask?” she replied, moving between him and the edge of his desk. She was trying to show him what he should already know; she was there because she wanted to be. Because she wanted him. 

His eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, but she focused on his smile - a small curl at the corners of his mouth that told her it was the answer he had hoped for. 

“I suppose not. I -”

Eliya interrupted him mid-sentence as she moved to learn further back against the desk, and accidentally knocked a bottle onto the floor. She gasped in surprise, but Cullen just stared at it for a moment before smirking and wiping everything else off the desk with it. Her heart pounded at the intensity in his amber coloured eyes as he guided her back and climbed up onto the desk with her. By the gods, this was finally going to happen!

Cullen kissed her, his tongue forcing her lips to open wider as he also pushed her legs apart, settling his body above hers. Eliya lifted her arms to grasp at his bottom playfully, and he bucked his hips against her in response.

She hadn't anticipated quite how heavy he would be, or the way his breastplate pressed against her chest, forcing the air out of her lungs. At first Eliya didn't mind, and just enjoyed the reminder of his physical proximity. But then small black dots started to appear in her vision and she realized it was probably an untenable situation. Cullen hadn't noticed, as he seemed rather busy kissing her neck with ardour.

“Cullen…” she gasped. “Mmm?” he responded, lips pressed to her skin.

“I can't breathe, your armour is crushing me.”

“Oh!” Cullen exclaimed, scrambling backwards off the desk. “Are you okay?” 

She took a deep breath and sat up to smile at him. “I'm fine, you didn't have to panic.” 

Relieved, he moved back towards Eliya, standing in front of the desk so she could wrap her legs around him. He cupped her face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing her lower lip.

“I don't want to hurt you - I'm much - larger than you are.”

Eliya hooked her arms around his neck, pulling his face down so she could kiss him. “It's not you, Cullen. We just need to get rid of that armour.” She pulled at the buckle on one of his gauntlets and slid it off his arm, replacing it gently on the surface beside her. Cullen smirked and removed his coat and gloves - that smirk, ugh, she almost didn't care if she was crushed, she wanted him so badly.

Together they dispatched all of his plate, and Cullen removed his undershirt too for good measure. Eliya bit her lip at the sight of his bare torso and exclaimed, “Damn, Cullen!” which elicited a satisfied chuckle in response. She had imagined that he would be muscular and well-built; he was a warrior after all. But his body was incredible; powerful arms and a broad chest leading down to his perfectly toned abdomen. She traced the lines of each muscle with the tips of her fingers, following the sharp lines that pointed down along his hips towards another part of his anatomy she rather wanted to discover. 

Just as she began to slide her fingers into the waistband of his trousers, he crouched down to grab her lower leg and pulled it up, meaning she fell back onto her elbows to compensate for the change of balance, laughing. He unlaced her boots and slid them off her feet, then moved to take care of his own. Meanwhile Eliya lazily unbuttoned her blouse, so that when he looked up at her again the fabric was parted, covering her breasts still but exposing her tattoo and navel. 

He pulled her hips back towards him and unbuttoned her trousers, leaving rough kisses across her pale skin as he worked. Then he divested her of her trousers entirely, with Eliya arching her hips to help him. He left one hand firmly grasping her behind as he climbed back onto the sturdy desk and knelt between her parted thighs. 

His trousers were still in place, though, so Eliya reached out to free him as Cullen kissed her, biting at her lower lip as he explored her breasts with his free hand.

After a moment she had him undone and his cock sprang free while Eliya slid the trousers down from his hips. He was bigger than the men she had slept with before. She took him firmly in her hand, stroking his length, admiring the feeling of his excitement and desire. She made a low humming noise that Cullen matched with a growl as she positioned him at her entrance. Finally he slid inside her with a thrust that filled her deeply and struck at the aching want for him in her core. Eliya gasped, her hands finding purchase against the rippling muscles of Cullen's back. His mouth sought hers, and for a moment he kept still inside her, enjoying this moment they had been seeking out for so long. 

“I'm afraid that now I know what this feels like with you I'm never going to want to do anything else,” Cullen said in a low voice.

Eliya giggled. “Fine by me. Though I don't think my other advisors would appreciate it. Imagine Josie's face if you laid me out across the war table like this.”

They laughed together, and Eliya loved how natural it felt with him. He was propping himself up on one elbow, and using the other hand to stroke the side of her body, from the curve of her breast to where her legs wrapped around his hips and back again.

“Is this okay, now? I'm not too heavy?” he asked worriedly. 

“It's fine Cullen - better than fine. You're heavy of course but I like it. You're so strong, solid - so powerful,” she purred the last word into his ear and enjoyed the sound he made in response. He pushed himself harder into her, making Eliya moan with pleasure. 

“I like that noise. I'm going to get you make it again,” he told her seductively, and there was much less opportunity for talking after that. They came together with the passionate lust of new lovers who had been resisting each other for far too long. Eliya thought her skin might bruise from the way Cullen grasped her hips and drove her into the hard surface of the desk but she relished it; relished the feeling of him moving deep inside her and his touch on her skin. It didn't take long before she was rising to him, crying out through the waves of pleasure that enveloped her. Cullen moved back to kneeling before her, lifting her legs against his chest and her hips into the air as he thrust himself into her core. Her hands grasped desperately at the edge of the wood beneath her as she opened her eyes to look at her lover. A few strands of Cullen's curls had fallen down across his forehead, mingling with the sweat of their exertion. He was panting, close to the edge, and his amber eyes met her green ones as she cried out his name. That was the final push he needed; she watched his brow contort as he poured himself into her with a strangled cry. 

A moment, or maybe more of dazed silence as they both caught their breath. Then Cullen slid out of her and moved to sit on the edge of the desk, so she was looking at him side-on. His chest was still rising and falling with his fast breaths, and he wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of one hand. Then he started to rub the back of his neck, in that nervous way he did around her. Eliya sat up and scooted over to him, resting her face against his shoulder and sliding her arm around his waist.

“That was fun,” she murmured. He looked over at her with uncertainty. 

“Did you enjoy it? I thought I might have gotten a little... carried away,” he replied.

“You can get carried away with me whenever you like, Cullen. I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

Her words seemed to ease him. He lifted his arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer to rest their foreheads against one another. 

“You know, I've just realised I've never seen where you slept,” Eliya remarked, and felt Cullen's brow crinkle. “What does it look like up there?”

“Did you want to - come up and see?” came his tentative response.

“Well, if that's where your bed is I imagine I'll have to, won't I?” she teased him.

“Oh - so you... want to stay?”

Eliya leaned in and pressed her lips against his. “I don't want to leave. Can I stay?”

Cullen suddenly sprang up off the desk, locating his trousers and pulling them back on with difficulty. Eliya watched him, amused. 

“Cullen - is that a yes or are you trying to run away from me?”

His face stilled with shock. “Maker's Breath - I thought I told you yes but then my brain switched straight over to what I needed to do next and I forgot to say it!” 

Eliya laughed as he strode over and kissed her passionately, hands weaving into her hair just like the day of their first kiss on the battlements. 

“Please, do stay. I can't imagine many things I'd like more. I just have to go up there first and tidy a few things - is that okay?”

Eliya nodded and watched as he practically raced over to the ladder, trousers only half done up so she could still see the trail of dark curly hair leading from his navel down to his cock. Once he had disappeared up into the next floor, Eliya slid from the desk and began collecting his various pieces of armour, returning them to the stand in the corner. Eliya located her own clothes, but decided against getting dressed. She had just spotted Cullen's cloak crumpled on the floor when he called down the ladder that she could come up. Smiling to herself, she lifted the cloak and wrapped it around herself, pressing her face into the ruff. The others - Vivienne and Josephine in particular - might hate this part of the Commanders attire, but she loved it. By the gods, she loved him. Just as much in his awkwardness and uncertainty as she did in his charm and strength. And he was waiting to spend the night with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blushes*. First ever proper smut chapter posted. There will be a few like this to follow so I really value your feedback!


	30. So much more ( NSFW )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is more after the desk scene.
> 
> "“Cullen,” she groaned, her fingers sliding into his hair.
> 
> “Let me hear you, my love,” he growled back, relentless in his pursuit.""

When Eliya reached the top of the ladder to Cullen's sleeping quarters, the first thing she noticed was the rather large hole in the roof. Cullen took her hand to help her up as she stared at it, then at the rest of the room. She wasn't sure what he had rushed up here to do, seeing as there was almost nothing there. A decent looking bed stood in the centre, surrounded by hastily stacked books and discarded planks of wood.

“I like what you've done with the place,” she said slyly, turning to look at him. To her surprise, his eyes were fixed on the sight of his cloak draped over her shoulders. She had left it unfastened so the shape of her body and her white skin was visible beneath.

“Oh - I hope you don't mind, I borrowed your cloak.”

Still not speaking, Cullen took a step back, as though he needed space to take in the full picture.

“Does it look good on me?” Eliya asked, quite pleased with the unintended effect her split second decision was having. Cullen blinked and looked back up at her.

“Yes, you look - you are breathtaking. It's just that I've seen you in that cloak once before,” he said with a clear note of sadness. Eliya didn't understand, and tilted her head to the side as she tried to figure out what he meant. Cullen stepped in and pulled her towards him, kissing her reverently.

“I wrapped you in this when we found you in the snow after Haven. Then I picked you up and carried you in my arms back to camp. The whole time I couldn't take my eyes off your beautiful face. It was the first time I realised I was falling in love with you,” he explained. His voice was low, and he spoke slowly, as though he was remembering each word as he spoke it.

“Oh,” Eliya breathed in response.

“I never imagined that I'd be lucky enough to stand here with you in my arms. I couldn't imagine how you could ever feel the same way. I wasted so much time, when if I'd just been braver I might have started courting you and we could have had so much more time…”

Eliya quieted him with a gentle press of her lips. “Cullen, I know it feels like this has taken such a long time, but I like our story. If things had moved faster, if we hadn't gone through all that awkwardness and getting to know each other, we might never have built the wonderful friendship we have. I might not have been able to stand here in your arms and tell you that… I love you too. With all my heart.”

Pressed to each other as they were, skin against skin, Eliya actually felt Cullen’s heart start to beat faster. He looked down at her with something like incredulity.

“You do?”

“I do, of course I do. So there's no point fretting about what might have been - lets just focus on what is, and what can be. For instance, I'd really like you to make love to me again, Cullen.”

Cullen didn't need telling twice. He picked her up by the backs of her thighs and moved over to the bed, laying her down gently so that his cloak was spread out beneath her and her hair fanned out across the covers. He held himself above her, their bodies only touching lightly in a few places, when Eliya wanted him pressed against her and inside her. She let out a little whimper as he nibbled at her bottom lip, her fingers gripping his upper arms.

“In case I didn't make it clear a minute ago - I love you, Eliya. I love every inch of you. I love your gorgeous, lush lips,” he punctuated his speech by darting his tongue against her mouth, then moved lower. “I love your vallaslin and the way it looks against your skin, the way it leads my eyes to look lower… to these perfect breasts, so plump and soft in my palms…”

He paused between each declaration to worship the parts of her he was whispering about, mouth now tugging at a flushed pink nipple.

“I love these hands - so full of power and yet so gentle. Seeing them, feeling them wrapped around my cock...” He rolled his hips against her, hard enough to create a dizzying thrill of pleasure and yet he pulled away again so fast, leaving her with a renewed ache that made her writhe beneath him.

“I love these three freckles near your navel… tiny details that make you so divine.” The kisses he left here were wet and open-mouthed, sucking at her soft belly and leaving faint red marks. Then he reached down and pushed Eliya's thighs further apart, spreading her before him.

“And this part of you… well. We might have only just met, but I've a feeling we’ll be getting very well acquainted.”

Her giggle at his sly remark turned quickly into a breathless moan as he kissed the patch of blonde curls above her mound. One finger slid between the lips of her quim, tracing gently from bottom to top. He closed his eyes as he sucked on his fingertip, then glanced up at her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Her head fell back with a shuddering exclamation as his flattened tongue lathed against her.

The few lovers Eliya had been with in the past had shown little interest in this act. The nature of those encounters had been far more impromptu, just a lustful roll between two strangers, whereas with Cullen it was so much... more. She didn't need to have much experience to know that he was very good. And, judging by his eagerness, she also thought Cullen was rather enjoying himself. 

The nerves in her legs began to twitch and jump, but Cullen's weight pinned them to the mattress. Sensation after sensation of pleasure rocked through her as he explored, flicking against her sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue and sliding his fingers inside her. It was almost too much - Eliya felt her stomach start to tighten.

“Cullen,” she groaned, her fingers sliding into his hair.

“Let me hear you, my love,” he growled back, relentless in his pursuit. So she did - her hips rose to push harder against his mouth as she shouted, moaned and eventually whimpered, riding the waves of sweet release.

She felt boneless, limbs heavy and muscles relaxed. She was vaguely aware of Cullen moving around and taking her with him. He was sitting up against the headboard of his bed. She found herself straddling his lap, his knees propped up to support her as she leaned limply against his chest. Gently he stroked her hair and down along her spine, until she had regained enough strength of mind to tilt her head upwards and kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips, even the skin around his mouth still slightly damp with her. Lazily, Eliya lifted a hand to wipe it away. “You're a messy eater,” she muttered, and she felt the low rumble of laughter as it echoed through his chest.

“True. I've never had perfect table manners - I'm always too busy enjoying myself.”

Eliya leaned back and stretched langourously, arms lifted above her head. She was very aware of the hardness pressed against her; she rolled her hips teasingly just as he had done to her. Cullen was not so easily taunted though - he grabbed Eliya by her hips and lifted her high enough that he could impale her with ease.

She groaned as he sunk deeper into her, her thighs sore from their earlier efforts. Cullen's face pressed flush to her chest while they found the right positioning and she twined her fingers through his hair again. When she started to move on top of him, he drew the swell of one breast into his mouth. That sensation, paired with the pressure and friction of him against her already sensitive pearl, meant that she felt her orgasm rising very quickly.

“Oh, Cullen, I'm so…”

“I know, my love, I can feel you… kiss me,” he rasped. She obliged, leaning down and invading his mouth with her tongue. His hands gripped her waist and stilled her, so that he could set a torturously slow pace. He kissed her deeply and deliberately, grinding himself into her. When she came, it was like every hair on her body stood up; she felt nerve endings across her body tingling and her breath came in short gasps, almost sobbing. Cullen lightly drew his right hand up her spine and over her shoulder before gripping one side of her neck. It was tight, but not painful and his thumb was pressed into the soft tissue below her jaw, making her feel the pulsing of her own blood. It was a gesture that was possesive in a way Eliya found extraordinarily sexy.

His other hand still secure on her hip, Cullen thrust his hips up into her and she met his rhythm, pushing back down. The wetness of her over-excitement coated both their bodies at the place of their joining. Eliya dug her fingernails into Cullen's back and clenched the muscles in her abdomen as she felt Cullen go rigid beneath her. 

“Oh, Maker… holy - Eliya…” he cried out as he was tipped over the edge. Then Cullen slumped back against the headboard, spent. Eliya nestled in against his chest and kissed his forehead gently. Cullen surprised her, tilting his face to claim her mouth with his tongue. He continued the deep but gentle kiss even as they moved to lie down alongside each other. He was hers. Eliya didn't know if it was her plan that had worked or the lack thereof - either way, it had worked. 

\---

Eliya was usually what you might consider a morning person. She slept like a log, and normally woke up refreshed and ready to greet a new day. This morning, she needed to get up early to depart for the Emerald Graves. This morning, she didn't want to get out of bed. It was entirely to do with the very handsome and very naked man asleep next to her. Cullen was on his stomach, with one leg tangled between hers and his right arm thrown across her body. His face was pressed against the pillow and her shoulder, the combination of his stubble and his hot breath tickling her skin. His face as he slept was unguarded and peaceful, free of worry.

By the gods, she didn't know how she would bear riding away from him this time. He had been everything she could have asked for in these weeks since the loss of her clan. And last night... well. It was perfect.

The sky was growing lighter as she glanced through the hole in Cullen's roof. If she waited much longer, Eliya's walk back to her own quarters would be much more public. She wished she'd brought more of her things with her last night - but it had seemed too presumptuous.

With a sigh, Eliya gingerly extricated herself from his embrace and scooted off the bed. Cullen merely gave a contented, heavy sigh in his sleep and rolled onto his back. She had to tear her eyes away from his toned and battle-hardened body, stop herself from getting back into bed to run her fingers along through the curling hair and the lines of his muscles.

She quickly got dressed, combing her fingers through her hair and splashing her face with water from the stone basin in the corner. As she settled on the edge of the bed to pull on her boots, she noticed Cullen's head jerking slightly as though he was having a nightmare. His breath had turned ragged and his face was contorted with fear and pain. As she watched, he began to murmur, the same words again and again. "Leave me... leave me!"

Eliya reached out to touch his chest, bracing herself in case he reacted badly. As his eyes snapped open Cullen flinched away from her touch, chest heaving and face confused. Eliya was still, giving him time to recognize her and their surroundings. When he did, his head fell back and he closed his eyes again with a groan.

"Bad dream?" Eliya asked Cullen gently.

"They always are. Without lyrium they're worse."

Eliya frowned, reaching out to brush back his hair. It was wonderfully curly in the mornings. Cullen caught her hand and Pressed it to his lips. 

"I didn't mean to worry you."

Eliya gave a slight shake of her head. It was worry she was happy to bear, and more than that. It must have been a long time since Cullen had anyone who really cared about his wellbeing.

"You can let me worry about you a little," she replied, and there was a glimmer of gratitude in his warm, golden eyes. Cullen pushed himself up on his elbows so that their foreheads touched.

"You are... I have never felt anything like this."

"Neither have I. But I like it."

She lowered her lips to brush against his, his morning stubble scratching her skin. Their tongues met, gently caressing, and Cullen's arms snaked out to pull Eliya into his embrace.

"I suppose you have to leave soon," Cullen murmured against her mouth.

Eliya hummed in assent. "We'll depart for the Emerald Graves this morning. It'll be a long first day of travel."

Reluctantly, Cullen's arms released her. "Please be safe. I'll be here waiting when you return."

Eliya smiled. "I promise. And you must look after yourself as well - get proper rest and don't forget to eat."

"As you wish, Inquisitor," he replied cheekily, which earned him a playful jab in the ribs. He caught her wrists to stop the onslaught, and Eliya descended to kiss him again.

"I love you, Cullen."

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I'M SORRY. The same day I posted the last update I broke my phone :'( I didn't lose my writing because I store it online but I did lose my means of posting because I was in Scotland and couldn't replace my phone. I have been working on this chapter by stealing my husbands phone so here is some more smut published on the coast of France. I will try to update again soon. There is more. I have plans.


	31. Home at last (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen eagerly awaits Eliya's return from her latest mission.
> 
> “I do like to be thorough.”
> 
> “One of the many things I appreciate about you.”

Cullen felt bone-tired, and the cold north wind that had beleaguered him and the men that followed him back up to Skyhold didn't help. They'd been training with recruits in the valley, and it was very late by the time they made it back through the gates and saw their horses returned to Dennet.  
  
Cullen did a double take when he saw Cassandra as he ascended the steps to the hold. She had been out with the Inquisitor on her latest expedition - Blackwall had disappeared the night before they left and Cassandra had taken his place.   
  
"Seeker! I'm glad to see you've made it back safely. When did you return?" He asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.   
  
"This afternoon. Where have you been, the Inquisitor was looking for you?" She replied.  
  
"Running training drills down in the valley, I've only just got back myself. It's a pity I missed the Inquisitor, do you know where I might find her?"  
  
Cassandra shook her head. "She said she planned to hand in her report to you and then go straight to bed, and that was hours ago. You'll have better luck in the morning. We had a tough last few days, I'm desperate to sleep myself."  
  
Cullen nodded and wished her a good night, his heart sinking. _At least she is back and safe_ , he thought. I'll get to see her in the morning. He cast a glance across the main hall, to the door that lead to her chambers. No, he wasn't brave enough to go there uninvited. He would wait. 

There would be much to discuss in the morning. Leliana had an update on Blackwall which they were all eager to hear. At Cullen's request,  Eliya had also been delivering regular information about the red lyrium deposits and red templar activity in the Graves. Cullen would need to explain what he'd recently concluded from her reports. 

Four rolls of parchment sat on his desk when he returned to his office, as well as a range of other notes that had accumulated in his absence through the day. So she had come by here to drop off her report. He wondered if she had been hopeful, even excited by the prospect of finding him there. She had told him she loved him the last time they spoke. It filled him with unspeakable joy whenever he thought of it. He wished he had been there to greet her when she returned to the castle, to tell her that he'd thought of little else while she was gone. He would have embraced her even in front of a crowd of people, to remember the feeling of her in his arms. Besides, keeping their relationship quiet seemed like an exercise in futility now - everyone seemed to know already.   
  
He removed his armour, carefully setting each piece on their stand. He was considering whether or not to read Eliya's report, and feel the comfort of seeing her handwriting and words on paper, or simply going to sleep so that the morning would come more quickly. His neck muscles were tight and strained, and as he stood rubbing them he heard a quiet noise from above - a sigh and the rustle of blankets. His heart leapt at the possibility of what that might mean, and he rushed towards the ladder to his room.  
  
As soon as he reached a point to see over to his bed, he was able to recognise the form of a small elf under the covers. She was there. As quietly as he could, Cullen walked over to see her more clearly.   
  
Eliya seemed to be fast asleep, lying on her side with one of her exquisite long legs thrown out to wrap over the blankets. Her hair fanned out over his pillows like a golden sunburst, and her lips were slightly parted as her chest rose and fell with each breath. He glanced around the room and saw her clothes discarded elsewhere, but she wasn't naked - she was wearing one of his shirts. That small detail made his blood run hot with desire, but he stood still for a moment longer just to watch her.   
  
She had her own rooms, much more comfortable than his, and yet at the end of a long journey she had chosen his bed. It meant more to him than he could put into words, the best gift she might have brought him by far. He was desperate to hold her, so he cautiously undressed. Cullen always slept naked when he could, as he often overheated during his nightmares and nightclothes made that worse. Plus, once the material had twisted and pulled against him as he thrashed and turned, giving the sensation that he was tied down and adding to his terror. But he would not think of that now - tonight Eliya's warmth would be like a torch that warded off the fear and memories.  
  
He slid into bed beside her, moulding his body into the shape of hers as she slept. One hand he gently placed on the thigh that curved gracefully over the covers, and with the other he shifted her hair so that it wouldn’t pull when he lay his head next to hers. She instinctively nestled into his form, her hips and behind pressing against him and her shoulders rolling back. Makers breath, he was glad to have her back. He had felt a constant ache for her, that even now he knew would not fully subside. He would never get enough of her.  
  
Cullen took a deep breath with his nose buried in her hair, and he couldn't help but to run his hand up from her thigh along her hips and to her belly. Though she was muscular, he loved the softness of her body when she was at rest. She carried little pockets of fat on her stomach, hips and ass, which pleased him, as it meant she was looking after herself and still eating enough despite the stress and travel. She might be cross with him when she awoke, as he had not been eating well or getting as much rest as she had instructed him to. He kissed the side of her head, loving that she worried about him, loving that he was eager to please her. He hadn't had someone who wanted to take care of him like she did since he had left his parents home.   
  
He felt her start to wake and stilled, but in a moment she was turning sleepily to face him and lifting her hand to his cheek.   
  
"You're here," she whispered.  
  
"And so are you," he replied, kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry I woke you."  
  
"Mmm, no, that's what I wanted,  why I came here."  
  
"I wish I was there to greet you when you returned today."  
  
She gave a small shake of her head. "Not your fault. Sorry I couldn't stay awake - I'm so tired - but I knew you'd find me eventually if I slept here."  
  
She leaned in to press her lips against his, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close and relishing the feeling of her slow but passionate kiss. One of his hands met the fabric of his shirt, bunched at the small of her back, and he smiled.  
  
"You're wearing my shirt."  
  
"It smelled like you. I missed your smell."  
  
He kissed her lightly on the nose. "My pillows smelt of you for at least the first week after you left. I wore it out quickly."  
  
She grinned playfully and rubbed her head against the pillow. "I'll work on leaving a better mark this time."  
  
"Mmm. Right now I have you, and that's much, much better." He ran his lips along her jaw and neck, her hands reaching up to comb through his hair. Now he was throbbing with need for her, but Eliya was tired and he didn't want to be selfish. She seemed to sense his hesitation, and responded by wrapping her legs around him and whispering in his ear. "I want you."   
  
That was an offer he couldn't refuse. He let his hands roam down to her naked behind, one groping at the cheeks of her ass while the other slipped in front to the warmth between her thighs. She made a small moan of pleasure against his skin as she trailed kisses down his neck. He teased her with slow, purposeful strokes that had her whimpering and biting at his lips. Every sound, every breath and move she made was a welcome reminder of her physical presence. If he thought he was in control of the situation, though, he was quickly proved wrong. She moved to sit astride him and swiftly pulled his shirt off over her head. He groaned in admiration at the sight of her breasts, pale skin shining in the moonlight. He reached out to touch her but Eliya caught his hand and pressed it into the mattress as she leaned forward to kiss him. He reveled in the feeling of her warm, wet sex pressed against him, and in the pressure of his erection pushing against the softness of her belly.

Eliya was trailing kisses across his chest, rolling her hips against him as she moved lower. He wove the fingers of his free hand into her hair, unconsciously mirroring the small circles Eliya's other hand was drawing in the short curls on his upper thigh. He knew where she was headed, but still let out a low groan when she took him in her mouth.

Makers breath, how could she be so _sexy_? It was really unfair that any woman could be so entirely wonderful - and beyond his understanding how she could then want him.

Coherent thought seemed to leave him for a time as her hand gripped the base of his cock and he relished the movement of her mouth, the pressure of her tongue. He worked very hard to contain himself even as he admired the way her golden hair brushed his upper thighs and watched the muscles in her shoulders move. He was blissfully at her mercy.

His hand tightened in her hair when he felt himself approaching the edge, and he called out her name as a plea.

Eliya promptly abandoned her ministrations with a rather wicked grin. Cullen felt his heart pounding furiously, but she let the urgency subside, taking his outstretched hand and kissing the palm gently.

His brow furrowed - he needed her desperately - he wanted to be inside her. It seemed she was of the same mind, as she gracefully moved to straddle his hips. He felt the warm slickness of her thighs and then the embrace of her walls. She started off slow, lifting herself slowly up and down as he filled her. Cullen’s eyes were fixed on the sight of his cock disappearing again and again between her thighs.

Eliya leaned forward so that he could kiss her, one hand at the base of her neck and the other on her hips so he could hold her steady at the two places where their bodies joined. He met the increasing rhythm of her hips with his own, relishing the small shudder that came through her body with each collision.

She shifted, reaching up to grip the bedhead to brace herself, so her breasts were positioned invitingly above Cullen's face. He gratefully took the invitation, tugging at one nipple with his lips and shamelessly groping the other breast with his free hand. She whimpered in response, grinding her clitoris against him with her thrusts. His tongue traced her areola, flicked over their hardened peaks, and she cried out more urgently. He felt her quickening, wanting her to unravel around him, wanting her to cry out his name.

If she did, it was only as a garbled moan of pleasure as she slowed for a moment to recover. He felt every inch of her skin quiver and the rush of wetness as she orgasmed. She was panting in his ear, and he felt each breath as her body quivered against his.

“Not finished,” she whispered huskily, and to Cullen's surprise she sat up straight astride him once more. Cullen gripped her thighs as she rode him determinedly, her breasts bouncing in the moonlight, marked red where his mouth had been just moments before. Each time he hit home deep inside her she cried out, her head thrown back, eyes closed. He let himself let go at that moment, pouring himself into her, groaning her name.

She fell forward onto his chest and he held her there as they both caught their breath. Eliya angled her face up towards his, kissing the underside of his jaw gently over and again.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that again since the day I left,” she purred.

“Well I must have left you with a good impression then,” Cullen replied.

“Mmm. Last time I was so sore, I'm fairly sure my whole ass was bruised. It made riding a horse all day particularly interesting.”

“Oh my. I hadn't even thought of that, I'm sorry.”

Eliya grinned. “It wasn't so bad. It was almost like every jolt of the horse reminded me where the soreness came from. I got to relive that experience many times over - made the fact that I was away from you a little easier to bear.”

“Oh, so I should try to leave you with something to remember me by?”

“Everything about making love to you is memorable, Cullen. But I don't mind waking up sore between my thighs and knowing it's because you loved me so thoroughly the night before.”

“I do like to be thorough.”

“One of the many things I appreciate about you.”

He could tell she was getting sleepy again. Her breaths were growing slower and deeper, and she snuggled into his chest, seeking comfort. He brushed her hair back off her face and kissed her forehead, counting the freckles on her cheeks and further down across her shoulders. She was a work of art, like the vallaslin on her face, beauty born of pain and endurance. And she had come home to him at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-last NSFW interlude before we get back into story. I just wanted to give these two at least a few chances to enjoy each other before more drama :)


	32. Here in your arms (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Eliya enjoy waking up together before reality comes back to interrupt their bliss. 
> 
> "Andraste's mercy, how long had he spent imagining what her skin would feel like to touch? And yet the reality was so much better. She was so warm, so soft, so lovely. He hoped the Maker wouldn't mind him praying praises when they regarded what might be considered sinful behaviour."

Cullen woke up the next morning for a very pleasant reason. Part of him had woken up first, and was presently pressed against the behind of the elven woman in his arms.    
  
Eliya must have already woken up, as she was fidgeting and stretching against him. She seemed to be trying (and failing) to carefully shift her position, as not to wake him, but her wriggling was impossible to ignore.    
  
Cullen stretched his neck so that he could run his nose along the edge of her pointed ear, nibbling at the end before he whispered, "Good morning."   
  
Eliya stilled, and answered him sheepishly. "Good morning. I was trying not to wake you."   
  
"You were unsuccessful. Fortunately," Cullen paused as he gripped her hips and pushed his hardness against her, "I rather like waking up with you."   
  
Eliya giggled and squirmed as he ran his hands over her body.    
  
And if that's what it was, Cullen was ready to sin again. He caressed one of Eliya's breasts, brushing feather-light over her nipple before rolling it between two fingers. His other hand snaked down between her thighs, feeling rewarded when he discovered her slickness.    
  
In fact, everything about her was like a gift he wasn't sure he deserved. His heart thrilled at the gentle gasps and moans he was able to elicit. His mouth nuzzled at the skin of her neck, his fingers circling her pearl, making her quiver against him. She arched her back, pushing her breasts more insistently against his hand. It inspired Cullen to shift their positioning, so that he was still pressed against her behind but her shoulders lay flat against the mattress. From here he was able to lean down and take her nipple into his mouth whilst sliding a finger inside her, and then another.    
  
"Cullen..." she moaned breathlessly. Another of his favourite rewards, his name on her lips. Even after making love just a few times, he was beginning to recognise the signs that she was close to coming undone. Cullen had always been a man bent on doing his best; if he was called to a task, he'd see it done with all his effort. The day he decided he wanted to be a Templar, he knew he would work as hard as he could to be accepted into training. Once he got that far, Cullen had been twice as diligent and disciplined as his fellow recruits, committed to serving the Maker with all that he had. When he signed up to join the Inquisition and accepted his role as Commander, he swore he'd give even more of himself to this cause than he had given the Chantry. He'd make whatever sacrifices he needed to ensure their success.

The day he had first kissed her out on those battlements he knew he was pledging himself to a different kind of duty. In that act, he swore himself to be _hers._ Whatever she needed of him, whether his love or his friendship or even,  _Maker forbid,_ if she bid him to leave her alone entirely, he would do it. He would exist to make her happy - and it was a blessed task, because her joy brought  _him_ joy. Now that they had crossed this threshold and she had promoted him, in a sense, to  _lover,_ he thought it likely he'd never devote himself quite so wholeheartedly to anything else in life. He would make it his mission to memorise every movement and sound, to know exactly how each touch and kiss would affect her. That knowledge would be his weapon in the blessed task of pleasing her. 

  
He curled his fingers, stroking inside her as his thumb swiped back and forth. Eliya reached out with one hand to grasp at his shoulder, her grip like a vice.    
  
"Cullen..." she moaned again, her voice higher and more urgent.   
  
"Tell me what you want, my love," he whispered back, but didn't give her a chance to respond. He watched her face, those lips opened in a silent cry as he made her come for him.   
  
Cullen gave her a few moments to recover, not removing his hands altogether but massaging her stomach and the insides of her thighs. When Eliya's eyes fluttered open again, he looked at her with what he was certain must have been a very smug grin. It made Eliya laugh dazedly and she moved her hand to comb through Cullen's hair, her nails raking his scalp.     
  
"Go on, love, you haven't told me what you want me to do," Cullen urged again, trailing kisses between her breasts. He grasped his cock with one hand, swiping it through the wetness at the apex of Eliya's thighs.     
  
"You didn't give me a chance! I want - oh!"   
  
Cullen interrupted her again, shifting her hips and thrusting to slide into her from behind. Maker, she felt good. He rolled his hips against her, plunging even deeper, and Eliya made a low, animal groan.   
  
"How did you know that's what I wanted?" she asked with feigned surprise.    
  
"Lucky guess."   
  
There were more details to memorise now; the way her round arse looked as he grasped it with greedy fingers; how she had brought her left leg up towards her stomach to give him a better angle; the smack of skin against skin as he thrust into her.   
  
Then Cullen climbed between her thighs, flipping her torso so that she was face down against the mattress. He entwined his fingers with hers so he could bring her hands up above her head, admiring the way the muscles across Eliya's shoulders stood out. He was gently laying kisses on the long scar that marked her skin even as he drove her harder against the bed.    
  
But her sounds were muffled this way, her mouth against the mattress. He released one hand to shift her hair to the side, revealing her pink flushed cheeks under the lines of her vallaslin. He kissed the shell of her ear and asked, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"   
  
Eliya responded with a long string of indecipherable elven, but Cullen was satisified by her sultry, breathless tone. He startled to chuckle, until one of Eliya's moans was interrupted by the unwelcome sound of a door swinging open in his office below. 

In his excitement about Eliya's return the night before, he'd forgotten to bar the doors from inside. 

  
"Commander Cullen, are you there?"   
  
It was that damned scout Jim. Again. Cullen clapped his hand over Eliya's mouth as she began to giggle.   
  
"I'm here, what is it?"   
  
"You missed the morning inspections."   
  
"I'm sure the captains managed fine without me this once," he replied, with a noticeable strain in his voice due to the way Eliya had started to wriggle beneath him.    
  
"Are you alright, Commander? Should I send for a healer? Or - do you need my help?"   
  
"I'm fine, soldier, now go away!"   
  
"It's just that Lady Montiliyet and Sister Leliana have also asked for you... they said they must call a war council now that the Inquisitor has returned..."   
  
To Cullen's surprise, Eliya stuck out her tongue against his hand, prompting him to uncover her mouth. She used the opportunity to call out, "Well I'm up here, Private, so you can tell everyone else to wait until I'm finished with the Commander."  
  
"Ah - as you wish, Inquisitor!" came Private Jim's squeak of a response, cut off by Cullen's shout for him to get out. Eliya giggled madly until they both heard the thud of the door below closing. Despite himself, Cullen laughed too.   
  
"Oh yes, it's all very funny. Half the barracks will be talking about that before midday."   
  
"Let them. I don't care. I'll make a formal pronouncement - the Inquisitor loves her Commander and..."    
  
Once again she trailed off into elven and Cullen realised he found it exceptionally sexy.   
  
"My love, that all sounds wonderful, but I don't know what you're saying."   
  
Eliya blushed. "Oh. Well, it's along the lines of 'you are a god amongst men with magical fingers and a perfect cock'".    
  
Cullen coughed. "Maybe don't put that in writing, love, but i appreciate the sentiment. And what were you saying before we were interrupted?"   
  
"Something along the lines of 'I'm yours, _vhenan_ , take me, please, I want you."   
  
Eliya's words went straight to Cullen's cock, which twitched inside her, reminding him that he had a job to finish.   
  
They lay in each other’s arms for some time later, Cullen knowing that he was terribly late for his duties but hardly caring.   
  
"We really do need to have that War Council though. I suppose we should emerge from this little burrow and greet the day," Eliya sighed, stroking his chest.   
  
Cullen murmured his assent, but made no effort to get up, his nose buried in her hair. This was the first morning he could ever recall in his life since joining the Templars where he felt normal - just a man waking up in bed with his lover. He knew it was an illusion - his lover was the Inquisitor, he was a Commander and they had enemies to defeat. But it gave him a flash of something he hadn't felt for a very long time - hope for the future.    
  
_ She said she loves you. She said she wants to be with you even once all this is over. Your job is simple. Keep her alive and don't ruin this before then. _

**\---**

As Josephine read out a letter from an Orlesian nobleman requesting assistance with some petty grievance, Eliya glanced across the war table to catch Cullen’s eye. He flashed her the same smug grin he had worn earlier that morning - and just the thought made her blush and smile shyly back at him.  _ How am I supposed to concentrate during these meetings now that I know what he looks like without all that armour… _

As though she was a mind reader, Leliana gave a small cough to snap Eliya back to attention.

“If you think it'll be of advantage to us later, Josie, give him what he wants. But I want a few of Leliana’s agents to go along and dig up some dirt as well - in case Sir Sebastien proves to be less than a faithful friend.”

“Very well, Inquisitor. Next there is the matter of…

“What do we know about Blackwall?” 

Eliya was surprised when she felt the mood of the room change in an instant. Her comment had been offhand, and while she had interrupted Josephine, it was hardly done with any aggression. And yet, as she searched their faces, both Cullen and Leliana seemed noticeably angry. Josephine just cast her eyes down, a small frown playing across her features.

“What has happened? You obviously know something. Where is he?”

“In the cells of Val Royeaux.” came Leliana's response.

“Why didn't you tell me when I was still in the Emerald Graves? I could have easily diverted to Val Royeaux!”

“The circumstances are… we didn't believe you'd want to see him once you'd been informed of the situation.” Josephine said meekly.

“I wouldn't want to see him? This is Blackwall we are talking about, our friend, I don't care if he ran off! If he is in trouble of course I want to help.”

“We never knew Grey Warden Blackwall. The man we knew was… an imposter.” 

Eliya glared across the table at all three of her advisors, eyes finally settling on Cullen. His head jerked in a terse nod; she could see the tension in his jaw from across the room. 

Why were they all being so secretive? Did they really think she wouldn’t want to know the full story? Eliya’s temper flared; she would have thought that by now these three advisors would know her well enough not to try and hide something like this. Why hadn't Cullen said anything?

“Explain.”

There was another moment of charged silence, before Leliana sighed and stepped forward.

“We suspected that Blackwall chose to leave on the eve of your own departure so that you would be unable to follow him. We searched his quarter for clues, and found a report about the upcoming execution of a fugitive in Orlais - a man named Cyril Mornay. Charged with the being a culprit of the Callier massacre.”

“What is that?”

“A few years ago a group of Orlesian soldiers attempted to assassinate Lord Callier, an ally of Empress Celene. They murdered Callier’s entire entourage - including his wife, servants and five young children. Several of the soldiers ran when they realised what they'd done. The Empress has been hunting for them ever since.”

Eliya's knuckles went white as her grip on the table edge tightened. 

“What does this have to do with Blackwall?”

“I sent my agents to the execution in Val Royeaux. Before they could hang Mornay, Blackwall stepped out from the crowd. He claimed that Mornay and the other men didn’t know what they were doing… that they were operating on the orders of their captain, Thom Rainier. Then he admitted… Blackwall’s real name is Thom Rainier.”

Even though she felt it coming, the confirmation struck Eliya like a blow to the chest. “What happened next?”

“They took him into custody. He’ll be executed soon - how soon, we don’t know. The Orlesians like to play with their food, particularly for a crime such as this. They’ll make sure he’s suffered before he dies,” Leliana added, and Eliya wasn’t sure if she detected a hint of disgust or enjoyment in her words.

_ Blackwall a murderer.  _ The thought burned. But this second-hand retelling wasn’t enough… she felt too removed, like it was just a story or rumour someone had made up. Objectively she knew it must be true. He had fled of his own accord and admitted to the crime without coercion. But there were other things she knew about Blackwall… things that were true as well, even if that had never really been his name. She needed to see him. 

“Very well. I’ll leave for Val Royeaux in the morning.”

“No! You’ve only just returned!” Cullen burst out, and Eliya sent him a sympathetic glance.

“To what end, Inquisitor? He is sentenced, and he has admitted his crimes,” Josephine inquired delicately, and Eliya heard the pain in her voice.  _ Blackwall had been courting Josie. He lied to her and ran away. _

“I don’t know. I might not  _ do  _ anything. But I need to speak with him, to have him -  _ explain. _ ” Eliya put it simply.

“I’m going with you,” Cullen demanded.

“You have a job to do, Commander,” Leliana reminded him.

“Rylen is here. He can stay on for a few extra weeks and handle anything urgent. This is - one of us ought to go. Let it be me.”

“Cullen will come with me. Leliana - you said he could be executed any day. Is there something we can do to ensure that doesn’t happen before I arrive?”

“I’ll - we can make a request of Empress Celene. But if you - decide to try and - help him in any way, our favor with the Empress may start to wear thin on the ground,” Josephine suggested.

“I saved her life and ensured her power. This is just the very  _ least  _ of the favours she owes us.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I don't know how it has been a whole four weeks since I posted last. I've been wrapped up in post-holiday blues, broken phone struggles and watching Stranger Things haha. Also reading a lot of absolutely cracking fics right now which is fabulous - if you have any recommendations let me know! I also got distracted by two side fic ideas so I'm half working on those two. Cullen is such an inspiration <3 Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, I've got the next 1.5 written so I should update again within a week. Working on getting back to weekly / twice weekly! Also, check out the artwork of these lovebirds on my tumblr: http://laurarankine.tumblr.com/image/145934372420


	33. Distractions and complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya and Cullen find it hard to focus on pressing matters... but the world won't stop turning just because they're in love.

The meeting dragged on for another hour, and with Eliya planning to depart again so quickly there was a lot of work to do. Even as they left the war room, Josephine was listing off a range of correspondence she would need to reply to and Leliana promised to bring the most essential reports to her chambers later that afternoon. Before she could sit down with Josephine, Cullen pulled Eliya aside.

“There is - a matter that we need to discuss. Would you meet me in my office?”

In other circumstances, Eliya might have waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, but the seriousness of his tone gave her pause.

“I’ll come now. Josephine can wait just a little while.”

Fifteen minutes later she marched across the bridge to Cullen’s office, where he was bent over his desk reading a collection of papers.

“Are you angry? About me going to see Blackwall?” Eliya asked preemptively.

Cullen raised an eyebrow.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. If you were angry at me, for not telling you sooner.”

In truth, she was a little mad. They’d written letters back and forth during her time in the Emerald Graves. Had he kept the secret intentionally?

“That depends. How long have you known? And why did none of you want to tell me?”

“Leliana only told Josephine and I after you had written and said you were on your way back. I’m not sure how long she knew before that. I hated not to write and tell you straight away but - we weren’t sure how you would react. We thought - the nature of his crime might particularly upset you.”

“Because he killed the children?”

“Because he killed _everyone._ For - political purposes. Just as… just as was done to Clan Lavellan.”

Eliya felt a small stab of pain, just below her heart. It was enough to make her wince. She’d not thought of it that way, not yet. No wonder her advisors had been so wary of telling her the details of Rainier’s crime. She took a few steps forward to brace herself against the desk, and Cullen was at her side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how - please forgive me, Eliya.”

Eliya reached out and rested her palm against Cullen’s breastplate, where his heart sat beneath all that metal. “There’s nothing to forgive, _ma_ _vhenan._ You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I ought to have told you sooner… but when I saw you last night, I was just so glad to have you back. I didn’t want to spoil it. It was selfish of me.”

She shook her head. “If you’d tried, I’d probably have stopped you. I wanted the same thing Cullen. To have a morning where I didn’t have to… be anything but me or anywhere but with you.”

Cullen pulled her into his arms, leaning back against his desk to hold them both steady.

Eliya had no idea what Lord Callier or his family might have looked like, but in her head she pictured a human version of one of the families in her clan. The father, tall and proud with greying brown hair. His wife, smiling contentedly as she watched her three sons and two daughters playing together. Perhaps the Callier family had been just like them. Perhaps they had been awful, spoilt and prejudiced and cruel to their servants. It didn’t really matter any more - whatever type of people they had been, they had not deserved the death they were given. Eliya knew what Blackwall - _Rainier_ looked like when he killed someone. How many times had she watched him in the process? The concentration on his face, the power behind his blows. She’d always known he had regrets in his past. She’d never asked, wanting to let him grieve and keep his secrets to himself. _Did I push him too far, asking him to fight for me? Why give up the lie, why now?_ She’d seen Rainier kill - and now she imagined him slaughtering that family from her clan.

“You understand why I have to - why I need to speak with Rainier?” Eliya whispered against Cullen.

“Tell me.”

“He was my friend. He bled for me, protected me. I need to know…”

“Why. I understand. Better to ask and hope for an answer than to spend however long wondering what it might have been.”

Eliya hummed in assent. “I'm glad you're coming with me.”

“I wouldn't have let you go otherwise. I've missed you too much,” Cullen murmured into her hair.

“Wow - enough to make you _volunteer_ to visit Orlais. Even after all the filthy letters those nobles sent you after Halamshiral. I'm flattered.”

“What - how do you know about those? I ordered Josephine to burn them all!” They pulled apart and Eliya eyed the shock on Cullen's face, amused.

“Oh, she did. But not before she let Leliana and I read them - for purely academic purposes, of course.” Eliya laughed as Cullen spluttered indignantly, and poked him beneath the edge of his breastplate. “I did consider writing back to a few of them and letting them know that your chest isn't ‘smooth and rippling like the dunes of the Hissing Wastes’ but that you actually have a very respectable amount of chest hair. I even thought to suggest that the gently forested hills of the Hinterlands would be somewhat more appropriate, as you are Fereldan after all.”

“Oh haha, very _funny.”_ Cullen followed his retort with a counterattack, tickling at Eliya's ribs and trying to hold her in place as she wriggled and laughed.

 _“_ If you think that's good, just imagine what they came up with to describe your _cock.”_

“I don't want to - why would they… ugh, Maker's Breath.”

Eliya was giggling and trying to escape Cullen's grasp, but he was easily too strong for her. He managed to take hold of both her wrists, pin them gently behind her back and pull her flush against him, at which she promptly stopped struggling and tilted her face up to kiss his neck.

“Don't worry, _ma vhenan._ I'll keep you safe from the Orlesians. No one will stop me from having you all to myself.”

Cullen chuckled. “Good to know. And here I thought I was coming on this trip to help look after _you._ ”

Eliya just smiled, tracing the edge of his jaw with the tip of her nose.

“What you said before… about just wanting to be you,” Cullen’s voice was a low rumble. “We'll get that, one day. When all of this is over, I promise you. We'll live a life of lazy mornings and making love. We'll have a house somewhere quiet with lots of trees and we'll spend so much time together you'll get sick of me.”

 _Would they, though?_  Cullen's words were sweet but not enough to shake the recurring fear that everything _wouldn't_ be okay. The very real possibility that she would die before Cullen's vision of a happy future could be realised. She felt almost guilty, like she was leading him down an inevitably tragic path, in his life that had already been full of so much pain. 

But, with his arms around her it was far easier for Eliya to hope. So, she kissed him. He let go of her wrists so that she could wrap her arms around his neck; his now free hands caressed the curve of her back and took hold of her behind. He groaned as her tongue snaked between his lips, and pulled back reluctantly.

“As much as I'd like to _bury myself_ in you right now… there was actually a work-related reason I asked you to come here.”

“Hmm, first tell me more about what _burying yourself_ in me would entail,” she teased, but still Eliya stepped back and let Cullen move around his desk to pick up the letters he had been reading earlier.

“The correspondence you collected from the Red Templar caravans in the Emerald Graves. The first thing I ought to tell you is that we know where the Red Templars are coming from. Therinfal Redoubt.”

Eliya's eyes widened in surprise. “So if I… if I'd gone to meet with the templars there instead - this might not have happened to the Order?”

Cullen’s brow furrowed and he put his hand over hers. “No. This isn't your fault - you can't predict the future. Even if you _had_ gone, it might have been too late. Besides, you saw what could have happened in Redcliffe. Things might have been even worse if you hadn't gone there. You must know that the only one responsible for this is Corypheus - and Samson.”

“Samson, the one you recognised from the attack on Haven? I forgot to ever ask you how you recognised him halfway up a mountain. What does he have to do with all this?”

Cullen grimaced. “He's the one leading them. The knights were fed red lyrium until they turned into monsters - whether they did it willingly or were forced, we'll never know. Samson took over after their corruption was complete."

"Oh - that's..."

"What he's done - it's sickening. Red lyrium isn't like what the chantry gives templars. It gives power but also a terrible madness.”

“The red templars that swarmed Haven were proof enough,” Eliya mused. “The ones we've met since have been no better.”

“They were once decent men and women, most of them! I knew them, trained with them, lived with them. They were my friends and for all the faults of the Templar Order, they deserved better than this. If things had been different, I could have been one of them!” Cullen’s voice was heavy with bitterness and rage.

“Are you angrier with Samson or Corypheus?” Eliya asked him dryly. She was half surprised at the amount of thought he gave his answer.

“I don't know. Samson at least should know better. We were Templars together - in Kirkwall. He was actually my roommate for a time, and I got along with him well enough. Then he was caught smuggling letters between a circle mage and their lover. Meredith had no mercy - she cast him out. Before this, the last I'd heard was that he wasn't coping without lyrium but couldn't feed his addiction. I can't help but wonder if I might have done something to help… then perhaps you wouldn't have to go out there and fight these _monsters_ he's created.”

Eliya quieted him, freeing her hand to run it through his hair. “What did you say to me not two minutes ago? You can't predict the future. And as much as fate dealt Samson a shitty hand, he's made _choices_ to end up where he has. Look at everything you've been through yourself, _ma vhenan._ All that pain and in the end you've still made the choice to do good. Being off lyrium never made _you_ decide to create an army of slaves.”

Cullen sighed, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of her fingernails scratching lightly across his scalp. “How in the world did I manage to get you for myself?”

Eliya pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “By being wonderful. Now, tell me what we need to do to stop Samson.”

“Right. The letters you stole were helpful - they've led us to believe that Samson’s main base of operations is likely located in the Dales, possibly the Emprise Du Lion. It's up to you how we pursue this, but I believe a small contingent of scouts would be able to search the region and get the Inquisition a foothold, without making so much noise as would scare Samson into fleeing…”

“Done. Send Harding’s team as soon as possible. And if it's safe, have them wreak a little havoc too. We can't let the bastards have an easy time of it.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor,” Cullen agreed with a nod and a smirk. Then he grabbed Eliya's hips and lifted her onto the edge of his desk.

Eliya wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer, relishing his hungry kiss and greedy hands. Gods, she loved the way he held her. He was so warm and had this smell, so heady and undeniably masculine. It made her think of sweat and sex and the power of his body. Physically she knew that he was strong enough to hurt her, which made the gentle reverence that he treated her body with all the more remarkable. Even in those moments where he lost some of his precious self control, she felt entirely protected, completely safe. And it was because he _loved_ her - something he expressed not just in words but in the way he wrapped his arms around her, the way he looked at her with that half-smile. The way he kissed her like he was a man dying of thirst and she was a well of clean water.   

“Every time I see you in here... all I'm going to be able to think about is - mmmh-  that first night on this desk…” Cullen spoke haltingly in between kisses.

“Fond memories. Maybe we've got time before…” Eliya started to reply before Cullen's office door flew open with a thud and a soldier - thankfully not Jim again - marched in. She was a tall and willowy city elf, with raven hair and a decidedly unimpressed look on her face.

“Damnit, doesn't anyone in this fortress ever _knock!_ ” Cullen barked angrily. The female soldier just looked over at them, seemingly only mildly surprised.

“Lady Montiliyet asked me to remind the Inquisitor how much work there is to be done and that she can't afford to get _distracted._ ”

Eliya laughed and told the soldier to wait outside. Cullen glowered as she walked back out of the office without closing the door.

“I'm starting to remember why it took us so long to get this far… is it too much to ask for a few minutes of privacy?”

“You've got weeks of travel by my side to look forward to, Cullen. And you can come meet me in my quarters tonight. Even if being Inquisitor means I'm always busy… one of the perks is having a very large and comfortable bed.”

“Tonight,” he agreed, eyes full of tempting promise.

_Now there's a thought to get me through the day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've altered the beginnings of both Revelations & Before the Dawn for this. It was the easiest way to make things work the way I want them to. Thanks as always for reading!
> 
> “There is - a matter that we need to discuss. Would you meet me in my office?”


	34. Behind these lies I disintegrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya speaks to Blackwall in prison.
> 
> \----- 
> 
> “Did you really think I wouldn't try to find you?” Eliya's voice was still soft but frustrated, disappointed. 
> 
> “No. I knew you would, but wished you wouldn't. I wanted to be gone before you had the chance.”
> 
> “So I could spend the rest of my life wondering why the man I called a friend just ran away? So I wouldn't know the truth? Or so you wouldn't have to face me?”

Light and shadow dappled the damp stone walls and metal bars of the Val Royeaux dungeons. It wasn't the worst such place Eliya had seen - her mind flashed back to the twisted future they had seen in Redcliffe - but it was far from pleasant. There was an all-pervading sense of human suffering, a cloying stench of despair and oppression. It set Eliya on edge. Val Royeaux was bad enough on it's own. When she was here, she retreated inwards. Back to her old self; the version of her with towering walls and a blank stare. Right now she wasn't sure if blocking out what she felt was a hindrance or a help.

She was hidden in the shadows, just metres from where Blackwall sat in his cell, but he didn't know she was there. Not yet. She still knew how to sneak about, how to breathe and move quietly enough that even a deer in the forest wouldn't hear her coming. He hadn't moved since she got there; seated on a low bench against the wall that must have doubled as his bed, arms braced against his knees and eyes downcast.

His face and arms showed signs of violence; no doubt the Orlesian guards had felt he deserved some extra punishment to help pass the time of his incarceration. She looked at the injuries clinically; it wasn't worse than anything he'd experienced out on missions with her. She remembered a day closing rifts when they had been surprised by a Pride demon. Blackwall’s arm had shattered under the foul creature’s crushing blows,  but still he kept his shield up to keep her safe as she cast Mark of the Rift and then used her anchor to bring it to an end.

Once the danger had passed, she'd watched him fall to the ground, white as a sheet. She'd been full of concern and apologies but he'd silenced her. He said he was just a soldier, and protecting her was his job no matter what it cost him. He was flippant with his life in comparison to the way he fought for others. She'd presumed it was because of his oath as a Grey Warden.

But now in the front of her mind was an image from a day she had tried hard to forget. A slab of misshapen stone jutting from the desolate earth in a cursed place. The shadows of fears that presided over this, their home. The names of all her friends above their separate graves - Eliya's own deep seated fear of failure that cost lives - drawn out so plainly. And the word, the fear that had marked Blackwall’s gravestone - _himself._

Eliya had never asked him about that.

“ _There's nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are nothing like a Grey Warden.”_ The words of Fear.

She'd never asked him about that either.

_"There are some who would say your faith in people is foolish - even dangerous."_

Cullen's voice this time. But he'd been talking about himself, and the last year had shown that her faith in him had not been misplaced. Was Blackwall so different? She couldn't believe that he was _dangerous._ If he'd wanted to hurt her, he'd had plenty of chances. If he'd wanted to sabotage the Inquisition, he wouldn't have left. That was the rub - he chose this. He hadn't been exposed against his will. He could have hidden forever - but he didn't. That's why she was here. That's what she wanted explained.

Eliya crossed the distance to stand just inches from the bars of Blackwall’s cell, and yet the man still didn't notice her right away. He was in a reverie; perhaps of regret, perhaps of despair. Eliya didn't speak, just continued to watch until she saw the small spark of realisation cross his face and his dark eyes slowly raised to meet hers.

“Is it really you?” he croaked, voice struggling from lack of use.

“Yes,” Eliya replied simply.

He held her gaze for a long moment, then shook his head and looked to his feet again.

“You shouldn't have come.”

“Did you really think I wouldn't try to find you?” Eliya's voice was still soft but frustrated, disappointed.  

“No. I knew you would, but wished you wouldn't. I wanted to be gone before you had the chance.”

“So I could spend the rest of my life wondering why the man I called a friend just ran away? So I wouldn't know the truth? Or so you wouldn't have to face me?”

“No! I knew you'd find out eventually, how could you not, but I didn't want you dragged into the mess… I wanted it to be clear that this had nothing to do with you.”

“That was foolish. You brought me into this the day you joined the Inquisition.”

Blackwall slammed his fist into his thigh, eyes darting back upwards.

“Fine, damn it, the truth is I'm a coward! I ran so that I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of my actions. I expected to meet my death before any of this came to you. But they've let me _rot_ in here for weeks, always wondering when the day would be… and now you're here and I can just add it to my long list of things I've bloody fucked up. Why did you come? What do you want from me? You know what I've done!”

Eliya stayed perfectly calm throughout Blackwall’s outburst, studying his face. She could tell that it vexed him, that he found her calmness terrifying.

“I want an explanation.”

“What is there to fucking explain? I'm a liar and a murderer and I'm here to face justice, I-”

Eliya cut him off, voice low and full of warning.

“You owe me this. I want to know _why_.”

Blackwall faltered, torn between yelling again and the realisation that if anyone deserved to know the full story, it was her. His head fell into his hands, dragging through his unkempt hair.

“I didn't take Blackwall’s life. I traded his death. He wanted me for the Wardens but there was an ambush… darkspawn… Blackwall was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man - the man he was - wouldn't have let another die in his place.”

“I trusted you. You lied to me.”

“You thought I was Blackwall. I didn’t want to tell you otherwise. As Blackwall, i was something. I had a purpose. I could make amends.”

“And yet you seem to have given up on the task.”

Blackwall stood abruptly, banging his fists against the bars of his cell, but Eliya didn’t flinch. “Don't you understand? I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage, and I lied to my men about what they were doing. When it came to light, I ran. Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was off pretending to be a better man.”

“Why did you do it? Why give the order?”

Blackwall laughed mirthlessly. “Don't fool yourself into thinking there might be some noble excuse. I did it because I was ambitious, and they offered me good coin. This is what I am. A murderer. A traitor. A monster.”

“You're more than that. I've seen it.”

“Would you say the same for the people who slaughtered Clan Lavellan?”

Blackwall’s question was full of spite and Eliya met it with a hiss. Silence hung between them for a long moment, as Eliya watched Blackwall sink to his knees.

“I'm no better than those men, Inquisitor. That's why I left when I did. To watch as you suffered, and know that I'd done the same thing, wiped out a family, just because I wanted to move up in the world… I didn't know Callier’s children would be there that day. I thought it would just be servants, guards. But I ordered my men to eliminate everyone… they thought they were protecting their country. I told myself that it was just the way wars are fought. I felt worse about abandoning my men, hardly thought twice about the lives we had taken. Then when they hurt you I wanted to march straight out to Wycome and give you vengeance… but what a hypocrite that made me. I couldn't keep lying, couldn't stand by your side, let you call me a friend knowing that if the real me had been asked to slaughter a clan of elves for a good enough reward, I'd have done it without question.”

“So you decided dying was easier?”

“No! I decided to stop running from the truth and let justice be done. I intend to pay for my crimes. Wouldn't you want the men who killed your family to do the same?”

Eliya didn't reply at first. In fact, it felt like an age between the last syllable passing his lips and the first forming on her own as she turned to leave.

“Death is only a cheap kind of justice. It fixes nothing. It isn’t good enough.”

\---

Eliya marched up the stairs and almost straight past Cullen, who was waiting in the office at the entrance to the prison. When he called out her name, Eliya stopped and took a shuddering breath. She needed to get out; her skin was crawling and there was this nagging feeling in her gut. She fought the urge to rub at her forehead - it’d give her feelings away. She needed to be here; responsible, professional - the Inquisitor. So she turned back to Cullen with her best emotionless stare and said, “Yes, Commander?”

She could instantly tell that it unnerved him as much as it had Blackwall - no, Rainier.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” she responded curtly, and was surprised when a moment later he stood before her, cradling her face in his hands.

“Eliya, please. It’s me.”

Four words and she felt her face crumple and her steely resolve disappear. She didn't cry, it wasn't sadness that she felt - or at least, that wasn't the most dominant emotion. She was lost amongst anger and confusion, sympathy and disappointment.

“I can't put it into words, Cullen. It just all feels wrong and I can't… I don't know what to do. He chose to come here. He wants to die.”

“Black - _Rainier_ might have accepted his fate, but you don't have to. We have resources. If he is released to us, you can pass judgement on him yourself.”

Eliya grimaced. She hated judging anyone, even their enemies that had committed the most heinous of crimes. She accepted the responsibility as part of her job as Inquisitor, but who was she to free or condemn anyone? Death in battle was one thing - she could accept ending a life more easily when it was to keep her friends alive, or herself knowing how others relied on her. But the choice between death or life, freedom or punishment was a much colder one when made from a throne. To sit in judgement of a friend, an ally… who was also a murderer. It seemed too much. But - maybe she could save him. Maybe he could be redeemed. Here in Orlais he'd never have the chance. Was it fair for her to use her power to give him that responsibility?

“If it were up to you, what would happen?”

Cullen frowned. “What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours, and in doing so he's also hurt you… I despise him for it. And yet he fought as a Warden, joined the Inquisition and bled for our cause… the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?”

“He wanted to change. To prove that he'd really left his past behind, he had to face up to it. He said he couldn't live with the hypocrisy of wanting vengeance for my people, all the while avoiding justice for his own crimes. I think… I think I understand that.”

“Saving Mornay the way he did took courage, I give him that. But I can't tell you what to do.”

Eliya sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head against Cullen’s chest. Listening to the steady beat of his heart, she thought perhaps she found her answer, though she couldn't put it to words just yet. She'd have time, on the way back to Skyhold, to figure out what came next.  
  
“Have Rainier released to us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah Blackwall. On my first playthrough I romanced him first and had to wait until after Revelations to break up with him and go for Cullen instead. He frustrates me to no end because if you go and ask him more questions after the jail scene, he really says that line about war being unfair and the sky being blue, and he says 'one mistake and everything I worked for fell apart'. What a jerk. Plus he's so mad and rude to the Inquisitor through it all - like come on bro, it's not her fault you did all this.
> 
> Annnyway, I had to go a little easier on him because Eliya has that whole kind, forgiving, understanding thing going on.
> 
> I had a burst of inspiration the other night that helped me plot like the next 10 chapters so hooray for that!
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and your wonderful feedback :)


	35. Burns a hole through everyone that feels it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a lot of feelings - some he expresses in healthy ways. Others he does not.
> 
> "She sat with poise; not slumped and disinterested nor overeager and perched on the edge of her seat. Her elbows rested on the wooden arms either side of her body, hands clasped in her lap, bright green eyes missing nothing of the scene before her. She was alert, calm, and focused - the picture of a judge and leader. Cullen's heart was full of pride as he watched her."

The sun shone through the stained glass windows at the back of the great hall, shafts of light dancing around the great throne that held court at the head of it all. 

It was an awe-inspiring sight, and more so for the figure that sat in the great chair. She was small, dwarfed by the size of the chair around her, and yet impossible to miss. The sign of the Inquisition blazed above her golden hair and the sunburst of spikes surrounded her like a halo of power. 

She sat with poise; not slumped and disinterested nor overeager and perched on the edge of her seat. Her elbows rested on the wooden arms either side of her body, hands clasped in her lap, bright green eyes missing nothing of the scene before her. She was alert, calm, and focused - the picture of a judge and leader. Cullen's heart was full of pride as he watched her. 

They'd been only been home at Skyhold for two days. The journey home had been uneventful, aside from Cullen's bouts of seasickness. Eliya's mood had brightened back to usual once they were clear of Val Royeaux, and in fact they'd had a rather wonderful time together. Cullen felt the back of his neck flush as he recalled stumbling upon Eliya one evening as she bathed in a stream. He’d watched her for a moment, recalling the day so long ago that he had first pictured her in exactly this situation. She was his exotic fantasy brought to reality, wet and wavy hair brushing her shoulders and dripping down her bare back. Cullen had wasted no time in stripping off to join her. They had made love there in the water, her body weightless in his arms and yet the heat that had enveloped him so intensely real. He remembered the steam that rose over the water as she quaked against him, the sound of water slapping against skin...

Cullen shook himself back to focus and his eyes locked with Eliya's across the hall. There was a question in her eyes that he answered with a heated smirk. 

_ I'd like to kneel in front of that altar. _

Her face barely changed but Cullen could read her amusement in just the slight twitch of her lips. Then her eyebrows contracted and he knew she was worried about what was coming.

Cullen wasn't worried at all. He had complete faith that she would make the right call - that her judgement would be wise and fair and measured. Because that was who she was. 

During the boat ride that had taken them along the coast from Val Royeaux, he had spent one peaceful evening on deck with Eliya in his arms and the ocean wind in his hair. She had been pensive, staring out at the horizon with a furrow in her brow. Then there came a point, without prompting or preamble, that she spoke. 

“He asked me whether I wouldn't want the men who murdered my clan to die, to face justice for their actions.”

Cullen didn't need to ask for context.

“I wasn't sure, but I think - I think the answer is yes. If I had been there, I would have slaughtered them in return. If I met them now, I can't say I'd do any differently.”

“No one would blame you. They did a terrible thing.”

“Mmm. The thing is, I've started to wonder if that isn't exactly the reason why the victims of a crime don't get to choose the punishment. Justice is meant to be blind… and it may not always leave the person who suffered feeling satisfied.

“That is true.”

“The question I'm asking myself is… what good does it do? If we keep repaying hurt with hurt and death with death… does anything ever change?”

She'd been quiet again after that, before they returned to their cabin for the night. Cullen knew she had made her decision, and he understood it. Rainier’s crimes had been grave, but so had Cullen's and so many others. The Inquisition was built and strengthened each day with her willingness to give people the chance for a new life. In a world on the brink of disaster, life was too precious to throw away. They needed Blackwall to fight, and in truth, forcing him to remain when everyone knew his crimes was a harder punishment than simple death. But it was also a better one. 

Now it was time to hand her judgement down. He offered her a reassuring nod, eyes still locked to hers, and then the door from the dungeons swung open.

Eliya's eyes stared straight forward until Rainier was dragged before her, almost pathetic in the way his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. The crowd in the hall broke out in whispers, but Eliya silenced them with a look. 

“For judgement this day, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall. His crimes… well, you are aware of his crimes,” announced Josephine, her voice shaking just slightly. “It was no small expense to bring him here… but the decision of what to do with him is now yours.”

“Captain Rainier. I trust you have been treated well since we saw each other last. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 

“What did you have to do to release me?” the man before her growled.

Eliya tilted her head ever so slightly to the right. “Josephine called in a few favours. There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition.” Her reply was measured, patient.

“And what happens to the reputation the Ambassador has so carefully cultivated? The world will learn how you’ve used your influence. They’ll know the Inquisition is corrupt.”

A few people gasped at his insolence, and Cullen bit back a growl. Cassandra shot him a look, no doubt to check she wouldn’t need to break up a fight. 

Eliya, however, simply raised her hand and silence fell again as the anchor sparked, casting a green glow momentarily. Cullen didn’t know whether it had been an accident or if she had done it deliberately. Regardless, as she raised her eyebrows and leaned forward, the Inquisitor oozed otherworldly power. 

“Interesting that you should judge me,  _ Captain Rainier.  _ You were held in Val Royeaux under Empress Celene’s name and authority. It was, after all, her ally that you murdered. You know as well as anyone that the Inquisition has worked to stabilise the situation in Orlais. We simply informed the Empress that as you had pledged your service to me, I sought the right to judge you myself - and she willingly acquiesced. So I’d say the  _ Ambassador  _ can be proud of having developed such strong ties with one of Thedas’ great powers. And I’d call it  _ politics,  _ not corruption. We simply did what we must, with limited options.”

“You could have left me there! I accepted my punishment. I was ready for all of this to end. Why would you stop it?” Rainier roared, bitterness coursing through his words and his chains rattling.

Again there were shocked reactions throughout the hall - in fact, Cullen thought the only person who didn’t flinch or seem at all perturbed was Eliya. On the contrary, she simply looked unimpressed and leaned back into her chair again.

“Are you quite done?”

There was utter silence.

“You might have accepted your death, but I do not. Death is easy. A person may believe that they’ll meet suffering or reward after death, but there is no guarantee of either. A dead man certainly cannot atone. Your death will not bring back the lives that you have taken. Therefore I am refusing you my permission to die. Perhaps you and others will see that as injustice - but you’re wrong. For you to die would be a waste of life. There is enough death in this world already, and adding your body to the count will not change that. But perhaps sparing you could.”

Cullen thought that everyone in the hall must be holding their breath, for the tension surrounding him was palpable.  

“What will become of me?” the shackled man whispered. 

“You’ve proven yourself a capable fighter and an asset to our cause. But whether you choose to remain with the Inquisition or not, this is the sentence I give you: you must use the life you have been given to do good - to make amends, as you once professed was your desire. You have your freedom.”

Cullen watched as Rainier’s eyes rose, full of incredulity, seeking the Inquisitors. She met his gaze squarely, but if he was expecting softness or pity or even affection there was none. Just that focused stare that took everything in and gave nothing away. Cullen knew that for all her mercy, she was hurt. Rainier had lost her trust and even if she didn’t want him to die, he would have to work hard to rebuild their friendship. 

“It cannot be that simple.”

“It isn’t. You’re free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be. No more lies.”

“The man I am? I barely know him. But he -  _ I  _ have a lot to make up for. I’m grateful that you would give me this chance. It is far more than I deserve, when I have done you so many wrongs. I must ask for your forgiveness again - I directed my anger at you even when you’ve shown me nothing but grace. If my future is mine, I pledge it to you. To the Inquisition. My sword is yours.” Rainier’s voice was strained, and he boldly moved forward up the steps towards where Eliya sat. Cullen was ready to stride over and knock him on his ass for being so presumptuous, but Eliya reacted first. She stood up swiftly, he stopped in his tracks.

“Take your post, Thom Rainier,” Eliya ordered, and before he had a chance to react she was gone, striding towards her quarters and through the heavy wooden door.

\----

“You’re extraordinary, you know that, right?” Cullen murmured later that night, lips pressed to her hair. She was nestled against him, their bodies sweaty and warm from making love. Her head rested against his chest, so he felt the vibration against his skin as she replied with a questioning noise.

“Today. Every day really. When I think about what you were like when you first arrived in Haven… I would never have imagined you as you were today. Everyone in that room was in your thrall. You command so much respect, so much adoration - and you deserve it too.”

“Flatterer.”

Cullen chuckled. “Well you’ve already let me take you to bed, so at least you know I don’t have ulterior motives. I mean it, really. I think it’s incredible that I can  _ see  _ how much you’ve changed with everything we’ve been through, but I know at your core you are still the same. You’ve become a leader without losing your kindness. There aren’t many people who could wield the power you do and not be corrupted by it.”

Eliya was quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing circles against his stomach. “I’m glad you have faith in me. I’m not always so sure,” she finally replied.

Cullen put two fingers under Eliya’s chin and tilted her face up to look him in the eye.

“Today you proved that even when you’ve suffered at someone’s hands, you’ll still make decisions that are just. I think I’ve started to see a little of how that brain of yours works. It’s like you pick up the problem and look at from all angles, and then put it back down and see where it fits in the bigger picture. You weigh up your options and choose the one that is most likely to lead towards healing instead of hurt. It’s like you’re healing the world one little step at a time.”

Eliya’s green eyes just blinked up at him uncertainly.

“Actually, with the way you think about things, I’m surprised you aren’t better at chess,” he teased, to which she responded by jabbing him playfully in the ribs.

“Alright, I sound like a fool. I just wanted you to know what I was thinking … that you made the right decision today. And that I love you.”

\---

The next week was, by all standards, a very good one. Blackwall (no one was really sure whether to keep calling him that or Rainier) had moved back into his old haunt in the barn. He’d have a ways to go before people trusted him again, but Eliya’s pronouncement that he was free to make amends had already begun to turn the tide in his favour. 

Cullen’s spirits were bolstered by the positive report he’d had from Harding and her contingent of soldiers in the Emprise Du Lion. They’d found a small party of Red Templars and were now resolutely tracking them, in hopes of finding Samson’s base of operations. Their last missive had mentioned a town named Sahrnia - which, according to Cullen’s information, was a known mining outpost. 

Even Cullen’s withdrawal symptoms had eased, limited to just the omnipresent headache and his regular nightmares. He slept easier with Eliya at his side, and after three nights in a row spent together in her quarters, she had even suggested that he might as well move in permanently. It seemed a small thing - it was not as though he had many possessions to shift, and his office would still be where he spent most of his time. But it was a declaration of something  _ official.  _ People would know that it wasn’t just a romance - it was a real relationship. Even being a private man, the thought still pleased him greatly. 

As a result, Cullen had begun to walk about Skyhold with a noticeable spring in his step. He considered it noticeable given the lewd remarks Sera had shouted about the Inquisitor ‘giving him what he needed’ as he crossed the keep on his way to a War Council one afternoon. 

The meeting itself was less interminable than usual, and seemed set to be blessedly short. That was until one of Leliana's runners came rushing in with a missive that he informed her was ‘urgent’. The rest of the council had waited patiently as she read the scroll handed to her.

“The note is from a chantry sister, Sister Paulette. She and a number of other sisters have been accompanying a handful of injured Inquisition soldiers through eastern Orlais and now into the Frostbacks. It appears that the men were injured whilst serving in the Exalted Plains, and as they are no longer fit for service they hoped to return to their families in Fereldan. However, she says; ‘ _ A band of Avvar, refusing to see reason, have pinned us down. We have taken refuge in a cave and are holding them off as best we can, but I do not know how long we can last. We need aid. _ ’” Leliana explained, moving back towards the war table. 

“Where would you estimate they are?” Eliya asked, leaning over the section of map where the Frostbacks cut upwards towards the Waking Sea. All of her advisors crowded around, and Eliya groaned when Cullen’s finger pointed to the large open space east of the Exalted Plains, north of the Emerald Graves and south of Skyhold.

“Soldiers dispatched from Skyhold itself will not reach them in time,” Cullen noted. “Nor will any in the Emerald Graves.”

There was another option. He knew she would ask for it, as much as he didn't want to offer it. But surely she would see reason, understand the importance of their mission?

“Do we have any alternative?” Eliya asked him quietly.

“There is one… Scout Harding’s team are currently tracking the Red Templars here. If we sent a swift bird to notify her, they might make it within a day or two. But it would come at a cost. They'd lose the trail of the Red Templars.”

“Oh.”

He watched as her hand hovered over the marker that represented Harding and her team, and as her finger traced the place where his had been just moments before. 

“These soldiers are still our allies. They have served us faithfully, and been injured in the course of doing so. We cannot abandon them now,” Josephine chimed in. Eliya responded with a thoughtful nod, clearly still pondering. Cullen rankled at the oversimplification. 

“That's not all there is to it, Ambassador. No one wants to make this call, but if the Red Templars escape, more people will be harmed. Our soldiers would understand.”

“Dead men are very understanding,” came Leliana's unhelpful contribution. 

“Inquisitor, even if we divert Harding’s team, there is no guarantee we will get to them in time. What will be guaranteed is that we will lose the Red Templars trail - which could delay our efforts exponentially. According to Harding’s last report, it seems entirely likely these men are kidnapping villagers and forcing them to work in the mines. You must consider the consequences - the damage that  _ will  _ be done if we don't stop the Red Templars soon.”

“I understand, Commander. But I can't in good conscience ignore a plea for help.”

He knew her mind was already made up, but damn it, he wasn't going to back down on this. They couldn't afford to be soft where Samson was involved - Andraste knew he wouldn't be. He was vaguely aware of Josephine and Leliana, standing in his periphery but not willing to wade into what was quickly becoming a fray.

“With all due respect Inquisitor, this is war. The right decision isn't always going to be the one that makes us feel good.”

“I am aware of the cost of war,  _ Cullen _ , but I refuse to believe that sacrificing good men is the only option.” He could hear the rising anger in her voice, knew he was pushing her, but couldn’t stop himself. 

“Then you wilfully ignore reality! What alternative do you propose?”

“Divert Harding’s team to rescue the men, and I will leave for the Emprise Du Lion myself within two days. My companions and I will pick up the trail of the Red Templars and regroup with Harding’s team once their task is completed.”

Cullen felt his mouth go dry.

“You cannot go to the Emprise Du Lion now. The Inquisition is not yet properly established in the area. It hasn’t even been adequately scouted. You’d be going in blind.”

“Not blind, no. You said yourself that Harding has sent reports regarding the situation in Sahrnia. Besides, if the Templars really are kidnapping villagers then it is imperative that we act at once. I’m sure we can simply speed up the process of making our mark in the region - and my presence should certainly help to do that.”

“You’ll be putting yourself in too much danger.”

“Any course of action will come with risks. If it is a choice between letting those men die, letting the red templars get away and putting myself into a less than ideal situation, I choose to bear the risk myself.”

“I cannot let you do that.”

“You aren’t the one giving orders here, Commander. You’ll do as I ask and divert Harding’s team to aid the injured soldiers. Then you’ll begin to ready your men so that once I find the Red Templars, we don’t waste any time in clearing them out.”

Cullen looked over to the Ambassador and Spymaster, hoping for support and finding none. He bit back a growl as he turned to walk from the room, knowing full well that the meeting wasn’t over and not caring a jot.

“As you bid me, Inquisitor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be slightly longer but then I decided to give myself a head start on the next chapter instead!
> 
> Sorry to leave it in the middle of a fight...


	36. A break in the surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they move forward with the plans to pursue Samson and the Red Templars, Cullen and Eliya's relationship is put under strain for different reasons.

Perhaps he might have overreacted. 

Once the bird was sent with Harding’s new orders, Cullen had led a batch of recruits through some gruelling training exercises, terrified Private Jim by berating him over some small error in a report, and beat the stuffing out of a training dummy until Dorian told him off for picking on something that couldn’t fight back. 

By the time the bell rang for supper time, he was starting to feel more and more like an ass. As much as he hated the thought of it, Eliya’s solution had been a good compromise. She and her team might be put at a disadvantage by the lack of intelligence available, but they were also best placed to deal with the Templars once they had been found. 

But his stomach was already sick with worry at the thought of what could happen to her. If the Red Templar forces were stronger than they expected, she could die or be captured at their hands. They might be walking into a trap set by Samson. There might be some other unknown threat plaguing the people of Sahrnia. Cullen knew Eliya was perfectly willing to take any of those risks, and he hated it. He hated knowing that if pressed, she’d give her own life to save anyone else’s. She’d told him as much, all that time ago on the walls at Adamant. She’d  _ shown  _ him that when Haven fell. But the fear and sadness that had filled his heart back then was nothing compared to the fierce and burning zeal that fuelled him now. Now that he knew what it was to love her, he simply could not contend the idea of losing her.

It was with this strange cocktail of shame, anger, fear and sadness that Cullen trudged his way up to Eliya’s quarters. By avoiding supper with the masses he had hoped to give himself just a little more time to find the words he needed to say to her. Unfortunately for Cullen, as he reached the top of the stairs in her room he was greeted by the sight of her sitting at the head of her bed, arms crossed and seemingly waiting for his arrival. 

“Took you long enough,” she spoke with one eyebrow slightly raised. He wondered how long she had been waiting. 

“I needed time to think.”

“Obviously.”

Cullen was a little taken aback at her shortness - she was usually far more understanding. 

“Can we just talk about this?”

“I don’t know, can we?”

“Why are you being so-”   


“Don’t you  _ dare,  _ Cullen Rutherford. All but a few nights ago you laid in this very bed and told me how  _ fair  _ and  _ reasonable  _ and  _ wise  _ my decisions are. Today you spoke down to me and stormed out of a meeting with our council because I didn’t want to abandon  _ our men  _ \- men who fought under your command, and in our name - to certain death.”

Cullen opened and shut his mouth once or twice, searching for a response, but none came. Then, finally, he capitulated and sank down to sit near her feet on the bed. 

“I was being stubborn because I didn’t see an alternative. Then you offered one that I didn’t like, so I kept on being stubborn. You’re right. It was inexcusable. I’m sorry.”

Eliya’s expression softened, but her arms remained tightly crossed against her chest. There was more to this, and she knew it. Cullen braved the opportunity to reach out and brush his fingers over her feet. Dainty little feet with tough callouses from walking barefoot, feet that were always warm like the rest of her, that she rubbed against his cold and weary limbs when he fell into bed late at night. They wouldn't figure in a list of even the top ten parts of her body, if he should care to think of such a thing. And yet they were feet he loved just as much as he loved the rest of her. The rest of her that he never wanted to lose.

“I just - I find it painfully ironic. That I - I would do anything within my power to keep you safe and shielded from harm, yet you are always so willing to put yourself at risk.”

“Cullen, you know me. You know I won't let someone else fight my battles for me. Would you really love me if I did? I'm the Inquisitor. Being the one that goes out there, even when it is dangerous, that's my job. The day I start sacrificing other people just to keep myself safe is the day I'll no longer be worthy of the title.”

“I know that, I do. But I thought you might be more careful, a little less…  _ eager  _ to jump into the fray now that - that we…”

He hated the way his voice wavered, but there was no helping it.   


“Eliya, we said that when all this is over we'd be together, but how can that happen if you don't survive?” 

She scooted forward across the bed and framed his face in her hands. 

“I do want that Cullen, truly. But I can't promise you that I'll live. There's a million things that could go wrong and make me break that promise. I can only promise you that I'll try - that when things get dangerous, I'll always fight like crazy to get back to you.”

Cullen sighed, wrapping his arms around Eliya so that he could pull her even closer. She moved so that her forehead rested against his, fingers weaving through his hair.    


“And I suppose that is all I can ask of you.”

“For what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I know this can't be easy for you, and the last thing I'd want is to hurt you or make you feel like your opinion doesn't matter to me.”

“It's worth it, Eliya. When it comes to you, anything is worth it.”

She sighed into him, and Cullen caught her bottom lip between his - an invitation to let kisses spell out the rest of the apologies and words they both weren't willing to say. 

Except for - “You're very sexy when you get all fired up.”

Cullen chuckled. “Should we argue more often then?” 

\---

Later Cullen lay with Eliya’s back pressed against his chest, listening to the sound of her steady breathing as she slept. She had been right again, of course, and yet it didn't make him feel any better. 

How many times had she faced certain death already, and come out still standing on the other side? But her luck was sure to run out eventually, and the biggest fight of all was still to come. 

He might not be able to keep her out of it, but he could do everything possible to give her the greatest chance of survival. He wouldn't leave it up to luck. He’d work harder than he ever had before, to set the board in her favour. He'd fight like mad for her. 

Cullen pressed his lips to the back of her head, once again possessed with that fierce determination and the clarity of mind that came with it. He whispered his solemn oath to her sleeping form that brokered no protest. 

“I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

\---

_ Dear Cullen, _

_ I have some good news, and some bad news. The good news is, when we arrived in Sahrnia we quickly picked up the trail of the Red Templars Harding had been tracking. We pursued them to a quarry and cleaned them out thoroughly.  _

_ When we looked a little more closely, we realised that this wasn't just  _ any  _ quarry. It seems to have been one of - if not the biggest - quarries supplying the Red Templars with red lyrium. We've destroyed as much of the place as we can. There will be one hell of a hole in Samson’s supply chain now. _

_ That's about as far as the good news stretches. Where do I begin to describe the bad news?  _

_ -It is so cold and miserable here I believe I may have lost my toes _

_ -The Red Templars were using villagers to grow the red lyrium  _ _ on their bodies _

_ -The mayor of Sahrnia sold the mine to the Templars, and knew what they were doing, but didn’t do anything to stop it. She even recommended who they might take next. _

_ -There’s a demon living in Suledin Keep _

_ -The bridge that crosses over the canyon - Judicael’s Crossing - is completely collapsed _

_ -There is Red Lyrium literally everywhere _

_ -Did I mention how bloody  _ _ cold _ _ it is? _

_ So at the moment it looks like your men won’t be needed - but please do investigate whether the bridge I mentioned can be rebuilt. I won’t be waiting around for it, but we can always come back. I’ll have to trick people into coming with me next time. _

_ We did collect a range of letters and other papers from the Red Templars - and some of them mention Samson. Hopefully there's something in there that will give us a clue where to look next. Until then, we will finish up in this frozen hellhole and head back to Skyhold. _

_ With love, ma vhenan, _

_ Eliya _

_ \--- _

How was it possible that each new place Eliya visited managed to be as awful as the ones that preceded it, but in new ways? It was like all of Thedas was competing for the best brand of misery. 

Returning to Skyhold felt more and more like a safe haven. The ancient magic of the place called out to her. Not to mention the always attractive prospect of returning to Cullen. He waited at the gates for her whenever he could. The sight of him, standing tall and proud with that small smile tugging at his lips helped Eliya to push away the thoughts of tortured villagers, red templar behemoths, bodies frozen in the snow and a demon that whispered  _ I can give you anything you want… _

Yet in the days that followed, dark shadows continued to circle at the edge of her mind. The conversation she had in Cullen's office the day after her return did little to help. 

“No red lyrium, no allies, and soon Samson will have no armour - I hope.”

“You hope?”

“Dagna’s started work on her red lyrium samples, but she needs more detail on the armour. We found orders in the mine - they mentioned Maddox. A name I did not expect to hear.”

Eliya tilted her head to the side, combing her mind for any information connected to the name, but came up short.

“Another voice from your past?”

“In a way. You remember I told you that Samson was expelled from the Order for smuggling love letters for a Circle Mage? That was Maddox.”

“Oh? Do you think he’s been using his magic to protect Samson? Though it is odd - I know not all Circle mages joined the rebellion, but I can’t imagine many would choose to unite with former Templars.

Cullen grimaced. “There’s more to it than that. Maddox isn’t - Samson wasn’t the only one who was punished for the letters. Maddox was made tranquil.”

Eliya felt her stomach drop. “What do you mean? They made him tranquil for having a love affair?” she asked in disgust. Cullen looked unwell too - but was it because of the punishment, or because he regretted having to tell her about it?

“The official charge was ‘Corrupting the moral integrity of a templar.’”

“But that’s - that’s so cruel! My clan, we heard about the Tranquil, but I never... I knew the Circle’s were often unjust, but - was this kind of thing common? Wasn’t Tranquility only meant for mages who couldn’t pass their trials, those at real risk of possession?”

“That was the idea, yes. But in Circles like Kirkwall it became… more of a method of control. Knight-Commander Meredith wielded the brand for far lesser offenses.”

Eliya thought she might be sick. She’d been silenced by Templars before, and could only imagine that as a fraction of what it might feel like to be cut off from her magic forever. Then again, the Tranquil couldn’t really  _ feel  _ much - but to know that was what waited for you, to watch those who were meant to protect you coming forward with that dread brand… Eliya closed her eyes, and sent out a silent thanks, not for the first time, that she had never set foot in a Circle.

When her eyes opened again, Cullen was watching her with dread.  _ He thinks I’ll hate him. That I won’t be able to forgive this, that it’ll be the thing that finally makes me turn from him. _

Eliya wouldn’t pretend that it didn’t pain her to think of Cullen amongst that sea of suits of armour bearing the flaming sword. He would have given the order to make mages Tranquil in his time - or at the very least, administered the act himself. But that was  _ before.  _ She’d already forgiven him for all that he might have done in that stage of his life. So she tried to offer him a small smile, and moved the conversation forward.

‘So if Maddox is Tranquil, what would he be doing with Samson?”

“After the Rite, he became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have… rescued him.”

“Why would he need rescuing?”

“When the mages rebelled in Kirkwall, the worst battles took place at the Gallows, in the Circle itself. I thought Maddox had died in the fighting, or was eking out a living on the streets - a hard fate for a Tranquil in Kirkwall. Samson must have found him. Taken him in.”

Eliya felt a small niggling of sympathy. She knew Samson had done monstrous things - she knew the villagers of Sahrnia, twisted and corrupted by lyrium sprouting from their flesh, had become that way at his command. But Samson had lost his whole life, for an act of kindness towards a mage… and then, it seemed, he’d found a way to protect the same man again.

“Perhaps there’s something left of the man Samson used to be,” she mused. Cullen’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

“Or he is shrewd enough to know an extraordinary resource. It seems Maddox built Samson’s armour for him, and maintains it still. Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare and expensive supplies for their enchantments - supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Leliana’s agents can also track down paperwork that might give us leads to pursue. Samson’s armour might lead us right to his stronghold.”

His voice betrayed a strange mixture of feelings. Focused determination. Excitement at the prospect of tracking down their enemy. No small amount of anger and bitterness. And there was a slight cruelty to the way he shut down any thought of Samson’s possible humanity. Eliya wondered if this might not be a dangerous road to go down - but how could she refuse? Samson was their enemy, and they needed him defeated. The fact that he was so intrinsically tied to Cullen’s painful past… there was nothing to be done about it.   
  
“Of course, Cullen. If this will help us find him, and stop him… have your men track him down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like, seeing as Cullen has never been in a serious relationship before, he'd be a little like Lennie from Of Mice And Men with the rabbit - so excited and intense in his feelings he actually stands to do some harm. He's bordering on smothering her with his affection and praise and overprotectiveness.
> 
> He's a person that needs to have a certain amount of control - likely because of his training and the trauma in his past - and now he has someone he loves and is afraid to lose. It sort of seems natural to me that he would try and control things around her, and natural that that will cause some tension. 
> 
> Hope that all makes sense. I'd value your thoughts as I don't want to twist him out of character!


	37. Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya is struggling, and looks to Cullen for comfort. Cullen has a breakthrough in the search for Samson. 
> 
> "Eliya woke up with a shiver, and her first thoughts were of red blood staining pristine white, frozen corpses in the snow and the sickly, corrupting stench of red lyrium in the air."

For two nights now Eliya had waited for Cullen to join her in bed, eventually falling asleep alone when her eyes refused to stay open. This third night, she wasn't going to sit idly by. She'd seen the light on in his office from her balcony, so she knew he would be sitting at his desk, working tirelessly. He couldn’t afford to keep pushing himself this hard. He needed a proper night's rest - and, if she was honest, Eliya needed him by her side as well. Perhaps it was selfish of her to pull him away from something he was so intent upon. But more and more she found herself having nightmares, replaying all the terror and loss that she'd seen so far and creating horrible visions of that which was still to come. 

So, Eliya wrapped herself in a warm coat to protect against the cold night air and crossed the bridge to Cullen's office. He barely looked up when she entered. 

“Are you coming to bed,  _ ma vhenan? _ ” Eliya asked, leaning her hip against his desk. Cullen glanced at her distractedly, and gave her a slightly apologetic shake of the head.

“No, not yet. There's still too much work to be done.”

“Can't it wait until tomorrow? You're working yourself too hard, you need rest.” 

“It's important work, Eliya,” he replied with a bite of impatience. 

“Everything we do is important Cullen - but if you wear yourself out where will we be?”

“I won't, you needn't worry about me. I know what I can handle.”

“But I  _ do  _ worry. If you won't rest of your own accord, do it for mine. What if I need you to be there with me?”

“I'd probably keep you awake more than anything else with my snoring and nightmares…”

Eliya huffed and marched around the desk to him, slinging her legs over his so that she straddled his waist. Cullen narrowed his eyes at her and raised his hands so as not to touch her.

“Eliya…” Cullen growled. “Cullen!” she imitated his tone playfully, pressing her body against his chest.

“I'm trying to work!”

“It will still be there for you in the morning.”

“I'm doing this to help  _ you _ !”

“And  _ I'm  _ doing  _ this  _ to help  _ you,”  _ Eliya whispered into his ear, gently biting his earlobe and grinding her hips against him.

“Maker's Breath, you're incorrigible…”

“You can't just work and work. You need to  _ relax  _ once in awhile _ ,”  _ she whispered again, this time brushing her lips against his while her hand skimmed along the bottom edge of his breastplate. Cullen groaned and gave in, grabbing the back of her head with one hand and her ass in the other as he kissed her hungrily. 

“You'll be the death of me,” Cullen muttered lowly as he buried his face into her chest. Eliya rolled her hips again, feeling him hardening against her. She kept it up - urging with her hips, teasing with her fingers, rousing with each kiss against lips and bared skin. His body oozed tension and frustration and she was pushing him closer to the release he needed physically, mentally, spiritually. 

Eliya began to tug and untie the laces of his breeches, deliberately rubbing against his cock through the fabric. “Eliya…” Cullen said again, a warning that Eliya chose to ignore as she freed him and wrapped her hand around the base of his length.

“Maker…” Cullen groaned through gritted teeth, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips upwards into her grip. Eliya’s mouth dragged against his neck as she pumped him, slow at first but building into a thorough, urgent pace. 

She loved the feeling of him in her hands, hot hardness encased in a sheath of smooth skin, pulsing with desire. She shifted her pelvis back slowly so that her spare hand could cup his balls. It was rare that she had him at her mercy like this - usually he was very  _ commanding  _ in bed. For now, she wanted him to surrender. So when he lurched forward again, hands fumbling for the hem of her tunic, Eliya slid out of his grasp and onto her knees before him.

“Get back here,” he ordered, even as he lifted his hips so Eliya could slide his breeches down around his ankle. She just smiled coyly and kissed the inside of his thigh, teeth nibbling at the exposed skin. As her eyes met his, she saw that barely controlled fire, the focus and strength and danger that gave Cullen his name as a lion.

“I mean it. Come here,” he demanded again. Eliya knew he wanted what she was offering, but he wanted to take it on his terms. She wouldn’t allow that, not for now. Eliya shook her head, and took her chance before Cullen could. Her tongue lathed  a path upwards along the underside of his cock, swirling across the tip before her mouth sunk down to envelop him.

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

Eliya actually giggled at his strained curse, pulling back for just a moment. “Such coarse language, Commander,” she reprimanded, in her best impression of a stuffy Orlesian noble. Then she returned to her task, her mouth slowly working him over, tongue occasionally flicking against the sensitive head.

“I’m… I’m a soldier and a… commoner… you can’t expect grand prose when… a beautiful woman has her mouth on my cock,” Cullen struggled to get the words out. Eliya responded by taking him in deeper until he hit the back of her throat, and swallowing. Cullen cried out in pleasure and surprise. 

When she needed to catch her breath, Eliya chanced another look up at him. His hands were gripping either side of his wooden chair, white-knuckled, and she could see the lines of veins and muscles along his neck and jaw as he clenched his teeth. She began to work his shaft with her hands once again, while she ran her tongue around his balls. That prompted a low moan that went on and on, hitching only for a moment when she gently sucked one into her mouth entirely. 

She wanted to push him close to the edge, over and over, so that when he did find his release he’d be able to let go of all the other strain and nagging fears along with it. Each time she felt his balls contracting upward and the blood pulsing through his flesh, she’d hold back, give him a break. Cullen started speaking a long, unbroken litany of prayers, praises and curses that peaked and fell with every surge. She could feel his desperation building, the hands that once held tightly to his chair now woven into her hair. 

“Please… I need this, I need you…” he practically begged, and Eliya hummed around the length in her mouth. She could taste the saltiness of pre-come on her tongue, and hear his ragged breathing between each muttered word. Setting her pace by the thrusts of his hips, Eliya put both her hands to use, pumping and caressing as her mouth sucked hard on as much as she could fit inside. He came with a roar, his seed flooding thick and fast. Eliya didn’t stop until he did, his grip easing and thrusts faltering. Then his hands fell away to hang by his side and Eliya eased back. He was slumped in his seat now, eyes closed and mouth slightly open as he caught his breath. She pressed a gentle kiss to his knee and rested her head against his leg. When he finally opened his eyes and glanced down at her, Eliya flashed him a smug grin. Cullen let out a huff of laughter in response, reaching out to take her hand resting on his other knee. 

“You seem very pleased with yourself.”

“Mmhmmm.”

“Come upstairs?”

Eliya raised her eyebrows archly. Cullen tried to be stern, but his reply came across more as bemusement.

“Eliya - you've had your fun. Now I'm going to take mine. Get upstairs. Now.”

“What if I don't?”

“I'll put you over my shoulder and carry you up that ladder.”

“Like you could, old man,” she teased. 

Cullen surged forwards out of his seat - but couldn’t get far with his pants around his ankles. Eliya giggled and scooted backwards across the floor, scrambling to her feet and heading for the door. Cullen pulled his breeches up with one hand and pursued her, managing to push the wooden door closed with his shoulder and wrapping his free arm around Eliya's waist. 

“This  _ old man  _ is going to have his way with you,” Cullen informed her, suckling at the exposed skin of her neck while she playfully struggled against his grip. Then Eliya let out an ungainly squawk as he lifted her up over one shoulder and marched back across to the ladder. 

\---

Eliya woke up with a shiver, and her first thoughts were of red blood staining pristine white, frozen corpses in the snow and the sickly, corrupting stench of red lyrium in the air.

_ You aren't in the Emprise. You're back at Skyhold.  _

As her eyes focused, she watched a small flurry of snowflakes falling through the hole in Cullen's roof. No wonder she was cold. Seeking the warmth of his body, Eliya turned to face his side of the bed - but Cullen wasn't there. In the quiet, pre-dawn stillness she heard the sound of shuffling papers and pencil scratching from below. He'd gone back to work. 

Eliya knew what it was he'd become so fixated on. He'd trawl through list after list of orders passed on by Leliana’s agents and reports from the patrols searching for any signs of the equipment Maddox needed. Every possible lead was marked on his map of Thedas, and then he’d stare at it, scrutinising, looking for patterns. It was the kind of work that could be delegated - but he didn't want to run the risk of someone missing something. 

Eliya slumped back down against the pillows, gathering the blankets more tightly to her body. The room felt dark and painfully empty after so many weeks crammed in a tent with her companions for warmth. 

And, in a way that cut deeper than the lack of physical company, Eliya felt overwhelmingly alone. 

\---

“What's the matter, lovely one?”

Eliya broke out of her reverie to see Dorian setting down his cup of tea, a concerned look on his handsome face. She was folded into the second comfortable chair he'd added to his little nook of the library for her and had been staring off into space, her own cup balanced atop her knees.

“What? Oh. Nothing,” she replied in an attempt at nonchalance, taking a sip of her tea. Dorian shot her a disbelieving look.

“I know you well enough to know when something is wrong, dear friend. Normally when you daydream you keep that very blank face on. Today your brow is all furrowed - you'll end up with wrinkles. The only solution is to tell me what is bothering you.”

“I think I’m just tired, is all.”

“Your handsome Commander keeping you up at all hours, hmm?”

_ Not in the way you'd think.  _ Eliya just took another sip of her tea.

“Oh my. When you don't giggle or snap back at my teasing, something must really be wrong.”

“I don't know how to put it, Dorian. I am tired, but it's not because of a lack of sleep. I just feel… weary, I suppose. And I'm not sure what I can do -”

She stopped mid-sentence at the sound of fast, heavy footfalls on the stairs accompanied by clanking armour. Eliya got to her feet just as Cullen appeared at the top of the stairs, a frantic look upon his features. When he saw her, however, his face split into a brilliant smile. With just a few short strides he was picking her up and spinning her around (an awkward feat given the close quarters - Dorian made a panicked sound and caught her tea cup before it could be knocked to the ground). 

“We have him! We found Samson’s lair!” Cullen announced breathlessly. Eliya saw Leliana emerging from the stairway as well, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“Where is he? How did you find him?”

“One of our patrols intercepted Red Templars escorting a supply caravan to his hideout.”

“We'll need to hold a War Council to discuss the details, Inquisitor,” Leliana interrupted.

“Of course. If you'll alert Josephine and Cassandra, we'll be there as soon as possible,” Eliya agreed.

They watched as Leliana left, Cullen still holding Eliya close. After a moment he turned to her, that slightly frantic look once again upon his features. 

“I want to go with you, Eliya. The location is remote, and I know I'll be away from my post for longer than usual but for Samson, I'm willing to make an exception. Say you'll let me accompany you?”

It was the distance or the time away that made Eliya hesitate. At the forefront of her mind was only the toll that this could take on Cullen. The enmity that seemed to exist between himself and Samson, the abundance of Red Lyrium he was sure to be exposed to… 

“I need you to be careful, Cullen. Samson still has his Red Lyrium armour.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to go. I know Samson - I can help you bring him down. And I would… sleep better if I knew I was by your side.”

“Of course. I'll… be glad to have you with me too.”

Cullen grinned back at her. “Well we'd best go tell your other advisors the good news!”

Eliya’s eyes met Dorian's. Their conversation hadn't been finished, and Eliya was on the verge of telling him - well, something. Even she wasn't entirely sure, but he had a way of getting things out of her that others had never quite mastered. What was there to say though, really? She was tired and worried - but who wouldn't be, with the world in the state that it was? It was hardly fair of her to offload all her troubles onto her friend. 

“That seems like good news,” Dorian broke the silence once Cullen had departed. Eliya nodded. 

“I'd best go.”

“I'm here for you, Eliya, my friend. You can always tell me what is on your mind,” Dorian replied, without a trace of his usual glibness. 

Eliya just smiled in return. “I know. We'll talk again soon.”   
  
She didn't see Dorian's frown as she followed Cullen's footsteps down the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ The bulk of this chapter sprung up out of nowhere. 
> 
> But it's all going somewhere, I promise.


	38. I walk on wounds that seldom prove to slow me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Eliya stage their attack on Samson's lair.
> 
> "As soon as they broke through the heavy wooden doors of the Shrine of Dumat, Cullen could feel it in his gut that something was wrong. The keep before them was littered with rubble and fire."

Samson and the Red Templars had been tracked to the Shrine of Dumat, in the far north of Orlais. So far north it almost bordered on Nevarran land - which also meant it took a bloody long time to get there. Cullen was almost  _ itching  _ with urgency. He couldn’t stand the thought that every day they travelled could be the day that Samson escaped their grasp. He’d poured so much work into getting this far. If they succeeded here, Corypheus’ forces would be weakened beyond imagining. If they succeeded here, he’d be one step closer to fulfilling his goal - to seeing her safe.

Eliya had chosen to travel with Cassandra and Varric, as they would be less susceptible to the effects of the red lyrium. And Dorian of course - she took him along twice as often as Vivienne or Solas. Cullen was quietly glad about her selections - he wasn't sure if he would have survived weeks of travelling alongside Sera or Solas. Both Varric and Cassandra knew him well enough to tell when he needed space, or company. Eliya’s time was stolen from him more than he would have expected - she certainly seemed to spend a lot of time in hushed conversations with Dorian. But sharing a tent had it's benefits, and Cullen knew he could lay down each night beside her.

His lyrium withdrawals had eased in the months past, leaving him most often to deal with lingering headaches and vivid nightmares. He could function well enough as a human being now, though, and that was more than he had once dared to hope for.

His nightmares seemed to centre around Samson, terrifying imaginings of what he had become and what he had in store for his former roommate and comrade. The ghastly memory of Meredith also lurked in his subconscious; Cullen often found himself snapping awake, chest heaving from the vision of her brandishing her red lyrium sword. 

When Cullen had told Eliya that he would sleep easier beside her, the desire hadn't only sprung from a need to know she was alright. She was what eased him, a balm for his tortured soul. When he was awoken by nightmares, Cullen would simply watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. To feel her there beside him, breathing softly, wisps of magic gently lingering as she rested in the Fade - it pushed everything else from his mind. It gave him peace - something he drastically needed as they drew closer to their goal.

As soon as they broke through the heavy wooden doors of the Shrine of Dumat, Cullen could feel it in his gut that something was wrong. The keep before them was littered with rubble and fire. 

“This is it. The heart of Samson’s command,” he announced to the others, as though anyone could be in doubt. 

“I… I don’t see him anywhere. Or hear him.” Eliya remarked cautiously. She was right. There had been no one on the walls of the Shrine, waiting to keep them out. It could be a trap… or worse.

“Nor I. Maker, tell me he hasn’t fled…”

They moved carefully out into the open, and were promptly attacked by the waiting Red Templars. That gave Cullen some sense of comfort, knowing that the Shrine had not been abandoned entirely - of course, it was hard to feel  _ too  _ joyful whilst dodging the red lyrium shards flying everywhere. Cullen and Cassandra pushed forward, working together to take down one enemy at a time whilst Eliya and Dorian cast their magic a little way behind, and Varric kept any encroaching enemies at bay with Bianca. By the time the first courtyard was cleared Cullen was sweating profusely, the northern weather and the radiant heat emitted by their foes creating a stifling environment. 

Beyond that discomfort, there was the added trouble of how the red lyrium affected him. From the moment he had stepped through the gates, Cullen felt the presence of that dread substance like an armoured fist to his gut. The smell cloyed at his nostrils and he could hear that twisted song in his head - the drug that he still craved but worse, a stronger, perverted version. The back of his skull had started to ache, Cullen’s mouth was dry and his throat felt tight. 

He had been through worse before. If they succeeded in their task, Cullen knew he could consider the pain entirely worthwhile. Still, as they climbed the steps leading onto the inner section of the Shrine, he took a moment to brace himself against the railing and take a few gulps of fresh air. It didn’t take long before he felt small, gentle hand brushing against his forehead and neck, releasing a rare burst of ice magic to soothe his flushed skin. Cullen flinched away from her touch by instinct. 

He saw the shock in her expression, and noted sadly the way she now pressed her palms to her stomach - as if to reassure him that she wasn’t a threat.

“I’m sorry, that was unfair, I should have asked you first. Are you doing alright?” Eliya asked quietly. Cullen jerked his head in a semblance of a nod. He couldn’t explain the combination of shame and agitation now swirling in his gut.

She used small bursts of magic like that around him all the time now - more so while they had been travelling in the last few weeks - and it was so commonplace he barely gave it thought. Perhaps it would have been different, if the magic she used in his presence was showy or aggressive - but even so. He’d come to accept it as simply a part of the woman he loved. Dorian had cast a barrier spell on him as well, before the fighting had started - Cullen glanced down at his arms dazedly. He remembered the tingling feeling of the magic protecting him, bearing the brunt of a horror’s blows. Cullen knew well that ten years ago, even five, the mere presence of magic in the air was enough to turn his stomach and flare his temper. Perhaps it was the lyrium in the air - but he felt like that old simmering disgust was back. 

“Cullen?” Eliya asked again, and he managed a weak smile as he looked up at her again.

“I’ll manage. Though I’m sure I wouldn’t be alone in wishing to spend as little time as possible here - so the sooner we get this done, the better.”

“Of course,” Eliya replied, the shadow of worry still lingering in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry for pulling away. It was an… old instinct. I didn’t mean to.”

“Have some water, Commander,” Cassandra interrupted brusquely, offering him a canteen. Cullen accepted gladly, gulping down a few mouthfuls before brushing any stray droplets away with the back of his gloved hand. Apparently he didn’t do a good enough job, as Eliya ran her own fingers against his lips and then pressed her lips briefly to his.

“Please just be careful,” she told him next, and Cullen smirked back. 

“Only if you promise me to do the same.”

“How about we all agree that no one’s going out of their way to get hurt, and then perhaps we can get on with it?” Dorian pitched in. 

Moments later they broke through the next set of large wooden doors, and were greeted with a behemoth. Having it wedged into the small space gave the mages an advantage of being well out of harm’s way, but for Cullen and Cassandra it meant dodging angry swipes in close quarters. When the creature finally fell, Cassandra was forced to dive out of the way so as not to be crushed. She landed at Varric’s feet and Cullen was sure he heard the dwarf make some witty remark - but it was hard to focus on anything but what lay before him. The stench of red lyrium had radically increased in potency, and it now there was another source of vicious heat - the shrine was on fire.

“This place is already half destroyed,” Eliya called out in surprise.

“Samson must have ordered his templars to sack his headquarters so we couldn’t,” Cullen replied, and he saw her eyes dart worriedly towards him. It was looking less and less likely that Samson would be found here. But the inner sanctum remained - he couldn’t give up hope yet.

“Sorry Curly. Someone tipped off Samson you were coming,” Varric suggested.

“I think you’re right. Still - we’ve dealt Samson a blow. It won’t be easy to find a new hiding place, and there may be information here we can use to track his next moves.”

This chamber was still crawling with Red Templars, and the company cut them down one by one. There was a difference, Cullen felt, between killing a horror or behemoth as opposed to a guard or knight. The former were so twisted and monstrous, he could push aside the knowledge that at it’s core his foe had once been his brother. But the latter still appeared human, albeit with glowing red eyes, feverish skin and protruding shards of red lyrium. Cullen found himself wondering if he recognised them, even as he dealt the killing blows - wondered if he had trained by their side, served together at some point in time, or even if they had joined the Templars for similar reasons to his own. 

He wondered whether they’d taken the red lyrium as a choice, or whether they’d been forced to do so. He couldn’t decide which was worse. 

Finally they made it to another set of huge wooden doors. Eliya took the lead, pushing them open whilst the others positioned themselves to defend their ground. But the doors swung open and no attack came. Cullen could see the flaming sword of Andraste emblazoned on red banners, and everywhere huge pillars of red lyrium shot towards the ceiling. As they tentatively moved into the adjoining room, Cullen spotted him - a figure slumped at the far end of the room. Not Samson - Maddox.

Eliya seemed to notice at the same time, and rushed across the hall towards him. Cullen knew it would be useless to try to stop her, so instead he followed, sword at the ready in case of a trap. But no foes sprung from the shadows, and Maddox simply watched them approach with his expressionless gaze.

“Hello, Inquisitor.”

Eliya took a half step backwards, surprised. “You know me?”

“It’s Maddox, Samson’s Tranquil,” Cullen informed her in a low voice, crouching beside the man. Time had not been friendly to the former mage - even if his face showed no emotion, his body looked worn out. And beyond tiredness, there was something else… Cullen took note of the unhealthy pallor of his skin, brow coated with sweat, and the tremors that wracked him. “Something’s wrong. I’ll send for the healers…”

Maddox turned his gaze slowly away from Eliya, staring instead into the face of a man he had known many years ago. If he had any memories or feelings attached to Cullen of course he showed no sign of it. 

“That would be a waste, Knight-Captain Cullen. I drank my entire supply of blightcap essence. It won’t be long now.”

How odd that a person could speak of their own imminent death in such a calm manner. It chilled Cullen, and not in the least because he felt the weight on his shoulders of all the mages he had played a part in making Tranquil over the years. 

Eliya gasped and knelt by his side as well. “We only wanted to ask you questions, Maddox.”

“Yes. That is what I could not allow. I destroyed the camp with fire. We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape.”

Cullen felt his face contorting into a snarl. So they’d only just missed the bastard - and he’d left his men behind to die in his place.  _ What a coward _ .

“You threw your lives away? For Samson? Why?” he demanded. Maddox tilted his head as he considered Cullen’s apparent anger. It reminded him painfully of Eliya and the unnerving blankness that had so set him on edge back in their days at Haven. But Eliya had been withdrawn out of fear and uncertainty - not because nothingness had been forced upon her.

“Samson saved me even before he needed me. He gave me purpose again.”

Cullen could see Maddox fading, his breath gone ragged and his words stilted now. “I… wanted to help…”

Cullen tore his eyes from Maddox to focus instead on Eliya, reaching out for her hand as she watched the Tranquil man die. She’d not even known Maddox, and still her eyes welled up with tears. Cullen closed his eyes and shook his head at the sad waste of life.

Then he took a breath and pulled them both back to their feet. Reaching out to brush Eliya’s jaw, he made a gentle suggestion.

“We should check the camp. Maddox may have missed something.”

Eliya’s brow contorted as she tried to switch back into focus.

“Yes. Of course. There must be something here.”

Together they searched, riffling through papers and chests. Cullen was first to spot something of note - something that sent a sinister chill down his spine. In the corner, discarded on the ground by an old wooden shield, lay three empty vials.

“Lyrium bottles. Licked clean.” His announcement earned an expression of disgust from Cassandra. 

“Drinking it, wearing it, growing it… you can’t say Samson isn’t committed,” Varric chimed in.

A few metres away, Cullen kicked open a chest, also full of empty vials. There had to be dozens in there. The thought turned his stomach.

“How much lyrium is Samson taking? His resistance must be extraordinary.”

Cullen wasn’t certain how easy it was for a person to overdose on lyrium - after all, dosage was strictly controlled by the chantry and if anything they erred towards giving too little, rather than too much. The Red Templars’ mutations seemed to come as a result of of the red lyrium’s unique qualities, rather than from consuming altogether too much. The only person who he’d seen that might be an example of excessive exposure would be Meredith… and if Samson was anything like her, his nightmares were coming true.

“Oh, dear… Commander, Samson has left you a love note,” Dorian trilled, brandishing a stack of parchment. Cullen snatched it from his hands, earning an offended tut from the mage.

“What does it say?” Eliya asked, still searching through a stack of half-burnt books.

“Drink enough lyrium, and it’s song reveals the truth. The Chantry used us, you’re fighting the wrong battle. Corypheus chose me as his General, and his vessel of power… and other such nonsense.”

“Seems like he’s trying to get you on side,” Varric suggested. Cullen screwed his face up in disgust.

“Does he think I’ll understand? What does he know!”

Cullen stood in silent fury for a few moments as he read Samson's note. The man must have known that Cullen himself was coming, to leave such a thing. He must have a spy amongst the Inquisition… or  _ very  _ good scouts. The tone of the note switched from goading and gloating to self pity and anger. The bulk of it was exhaustingly vague and incoherent, but he got the gist. Both he and Samson had suffered as Templars - Samson knew all too well about the nightmares that plagued Cullen after Kinloch Hold. But how Samson had managed to move from that place into believing that following this blighted magister was the best choice, the righteous choice - that boggled his mind. And the lyrium… he spoke of it like a lover or a friend, of the power and the control it gave him. Surrounded by so much of the stuff, his words only strengthened the powerful hunger Cullen felt.

“Hey - over here!” Eliya called from a side room, down a small passageway. Cullen left Varric, Cassandra and Dorian to continue searching the main space as he rushed to her side.

She was standing over a desk, covered in spiky metal objects of various shapes and sizes.

“This must have been Maddox’s room…” she suggested, waving her hand at the small burning cot and the variety of workstations. Cullen picked up one of the spiky rods gingerly, examining it.

“The fire couldn’t destroy these entirely, whatever they are.”

“Part of a forge, maybe?”

Cullen hummed in assent. “Tranquil often forge their own tools. Dagna should be able to make sense of them. If Maddox used these to forge Samson’s armour, she could use them to unmake it.” A broad grin spread upon his face. “We have him.”

“Cullen…” Eliya interrupted, touching his arm lightly. “We can’t leave Maddox here. He should be properly laid to rest.”

Cullen glanced back out towards the main hall, and took a breath of warm air polluted with the stench of red lyrium. “A dismal place to die,” he agreed. “It can’t have been much of a place to live either, under Samson’s command. I’ll have someone take care of it. If even Samson did his best for Maddox, we can do no less.” 

“Well said. Samson… he certainly seems to inspire a great deal of loyalty in his followers.”

Cullen felt his temper flare again. “Yes, and look where their loyalty got them. What kind of leader leaves his men behind to take the fall while he runs? If Samson had any honour, he’d have stood and fought.”

Eliya hovered for a moment on the edge of his periphery. He could almost  _ feel  _ her struggling to think of something to say that wouldn’t anger him further, and he knew he ought to apologise again but couldn't think of words that wouldn't be just as curt.

“I’ll - I’ll keep looking around. Thank you,  _ vhenan _ .” 

Cullen stood still for a moment, staring into a towering shard of red lyrium. Did Samson think forcing their former brothers into taking this monstrous poison and then exploiting them for his ends really made him some sort of champion? When he insinuated that  _ the chantry had used them _ … how could he think that what he was doing was anything less? To serve a magister bent on destroying their world - one where magic would no doubt be used to rule over men - no Templar would agree to that path. 

Cullen felt a stirring in the air, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. It almost felt like magic - so he turned towards Eliya again, feeling ready to snap. Instead, he saw something strange.

Eliya was examining some papers on a nearby workbench - but behind her, the air seemed to be rippling. The warning was already halfway from Cullen's lips when a Red Templar shadow pulled itself out of invisibility behind her. He watched, like the scene was unfolding in slow motion, as the foe brought down the massive blade it had in place of an arm. 

Eliya, hearing Cullen's shout, turned towards him, eyes wide. She hadn't realised yet what was happening.

Cullen sprang forward, shield and sword at the ready, but she was too far across the room. The red blade that took the place of the shadows arm slashed downwards through the air. 

Cullen heard his love cry out, mixed with the terrible sound of tearing flesh. Her chest thrust forward as she stumbled in pain and confusion. 

The shadow had missed his goal but still landed a critical blow; had Eliya not turned when she did, it would have cleaved her in two from shoulder to hip. 

After what seemed like an eternity Cullen made it across the room. 

He went in for a shield bash as the Templar kicked the back of Eliya’s knees out. She crashed forward into the work table, head hitting the wooden edge with a sickening thud. 

But Cullen had the shadow cowering beneath the blows from his shield. He attacked mercilessly again and again. At last his foe raised both bladed arms to protect his head, leaving his body vulnerable. With one good swing Cullen carved the shadow open across its stomach. As it faltered he swung again to separate the shadow’s head from it's body.

Cullen roared for help that was already coming, their companions footsteps thundering down the small passage. His sword and shield clattered against the stone floors. He knelt, cradling Eliya to him. She was out cold and bleeding just above her hairline, matting her golden hair and starting to drip down across her forehead. But he also felt the warm flow of blood on his palms against her back. 

Dorian fell to his knees beside them, taking a cursory look at the wound on her head before helping Cullen turn her body over in his arms. Her shirt gaped open to reveal a deep gash that cut diagonally across her back. It was deep enough that he could see glimmers of white where her bones had been exposed. Red lyrium glittered in the wound against the dark ooze of her blood. Cullen shouted again, begging someone to bring a healer, and grabbed Dorian by the shoulder.

“Help her, Dorian, please… do something!”

“I’m not a healer, Commander, there’s very little I can -”

“Please! You’ve got to get the red lyrium out… before it gets into her blood…” 

“She’s going to be alright, Cullen. The healers are coming, they’ll know what to do. The cut isn’t too deep, and she’s still breathing. She’ll pull through, but you need to stay calm…”

“I should have made sure the room was properly clear… if she dies, it’s my fault! Maker, I can’t lose her, I can’t.”

“You’re not the only one, Cullen!”

Cassandra came running back into the room, two healers and a band of other soldiers on her tail. They started giving orders, telling Cullen to lift Eliya up onto the work table surface while Dorian swept it clear of debris. 

“Should we perhaps move her out of the burning building?” Varric suggested.

“There’s no time. Turn her on her side, we need to clean the wound. Step back, please, Commander, give us some space.”

Cullen wanted to protest, to stay close and hold her hand and tell her it was going to be okay but he didn’t. He took one step backwards after another until his back was up against the hot stone walls. 

His hands were covered with her blood, so much blood. The coppery tang of it filled his nostrils mixed with the lyrium and the smoke. He tried to rub the blood off onto his trousers but it was sticky now, he couldn’t shift it. 

The healers pulled the stopper off some kind of clear potion that smoked sinisterly before they poured it over the wound marring her flesh. It must have hurt, because Eliya regained consciousness enough to scream with pain. 

They were hurting her, he had to stop them, he had to protect her… Cullen roared with fury as he charged back across the room. 

Cassandra tried to hold him back but he shook himself free. The head healer saw him coming, shouted for the other soldiers to restrain him, but still he fought them.

“They’re hurting her!”

“They have to clean the wound, Curly, to stop the lyrium from infecting her. It’s the only way!” Varric explained in his ear, and Cullen realised he’d been brought to his knees.

Years ago, it would have taken more than a handful of men to stop him from getting where he wanted to go, particularly when in the heat of a fight. He’d gotten weak, gotten careless. That’s how he’d failed her. This was his fault, he knew it. 

_ Drink enough red lyrium and its song reveals the truth. _

He heard that song more clearly now. He’d been weak today, off his game. It was the lyrium. It’s song promised power, the force and fortitude required for victory. He should have been taking it. If he had, perhaps his instincts would have been sharper. Samson and his men were strong, focused. Red lyrium gave them their edge, and how could Cullen compete with it?  
  
He was doomed to fail the Inquisition. Doomed to fail her because of his own foolish hopes, because he valued some fatuous notion of freedom over his ability to do his job properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given all the awfulness in the world this week, I'm sorry that this isn't a more cheerful chapter!  
> But if any of my readers live in the USA and are feeling sad I'm sending hugs across the Pacific from Australia. Things aren't amazing in our politics here either, but we're still fighting the good fight. Don't lose hope!
> 
> Incidentally, Cullen and Eliya need to know that right now too.
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely feedback lately, by the way. When I think about how excited I get reading some other fics on here, it makes me so happy to think that people might like what I write even a fraction as much. So thank you :D


	39. Hold my breath and let it bury me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you constantly give yourself away in the service of others, eventually you'll run out of pieces to give. Where does the helper and comforter go when they need help and comfort?
> 
> "“You look tired, Ma vhenan,” Eliya called softly as she crossed the room. Cullen's eyes lit up when he saw her, offering a half-grin in her direction.
> 
> “Dead on my feet, love,” he replied, and she noticed the strain in his voice. He held out his arms to her and she stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his chest for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. Not for the first time, Eliya wondered if she ought to tell him just how tired she was - but it always felt just a little better to be with him, in his arms."

Eliya paused for a moment on her way up the stairs. She folded her arms atop the banister and rested her head, taking deep, slow breaths.

She did this more and more now - stopping for precious minutes of solitude in between meetings and conversations and duties. Quiet breaks like a calm in the never ending storm.

She rolled her shoulders back, feeling the pull and twinge of the scar that now stretched across her back. It had healed cleanly, but still bothered her at the end of long days - which every day seemed to be. Perhaps she'd ask Cullen for a shoulder rub before bed.

It had been over two months since their attack on the Shrine of Dumat. They'd not been able to track down Samson since his escape - presumably he was now hiding by his masters side. Of Corypheus they heard only whispers. That his forces were in the Arbor Wilds, searching for something. Morrigan believed it to be another eluvian. The Inquisition’s people were searching too.

Despite the lack of progress there, Eliya had not been idle. She'd spent her time helping her companions - each of them had problems to resolve, opportunities for the Inquisition, old friends and enemies to confront. And they all wanted her help and support.

Eliya was glad that they trusted her. But the added pressure of making choices that would determine the happiness of her treasured friends was becoming immense. Who was _she_ to make these decisions for them? Even as she tried to understand, these were  _their_ lives. And even though she wanted what was best for them, it always seemed to come with so much pain. Standing with Varric as he realised Bianca's folly - it hurt. Denying Solas and Leliana their vengeance - it hurt. Finding that her efforts weren't enough to save Vivienne's lover - it hurt. Seeing what the former Cole had suffered - it hurt. 

Two days earlier she had returned from the coast with Iron Bull and the Chargers in tow. It had been a heart wrenching choice - save the Chargers, or save the hundreds of Qunari on board that dreadnought and the alliance they had offered. She saw Bull’s quiet despair, knowing what was expected of him, knowing that it would destroy some part of him to make that call. So she told him to call for the Chargers retreat. He was made tal vashoth. Their alliance was lost. And every soul upon that dreadnought perished at her word.

She'd spent the evening tonight in the Herald’s Rest with the Chargers. She tried to console Bull, but she knew some of his pain came from the fact that he _wasn't_ all that sorry for what he had lost. That kind of guilt makes you question things you thought you knew. It had its grip around Eliya’s heart too.

It hurt.

She still felt just as worn, perhaps even more so, than she had in the days before their attack on the Shrine. She was just doing a good job of hiding it.

Eliya took a deep breath and stood straight again, before marching through the door to her rooms. Reaching the top of the stairs, she looked across the space to see Cullen hunched over her desk. His brow was furrowed with thought and one hand rubbed the back of his neck again and again. He hadn't heard her enter, too focused on whatever he was puzzling over.

“You look tired, _Ma vhenan_ ,” Eliya called softly as she crossed the room. Cullen's eyes lit up when he saw her, offering a half-grin in her direction.

“Dead on my feet, love,” he replied, and she noticed the strain in his voice. He held out his arms to her and she stepped into his embrace, resting her head on his chest for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to her hair. Not for the first time, Eliya wondered if she ought to tell him just _how_ tired she was - but it always felt just a little better to be with him, in his arms.

“Do you ah… would you happen to have any of that tree bark that helps with headaches?” He asked, somewhat sheepishly. She narrowed her eyes as she glanced up at him, lightly touching his neck, forehead and cheeks as she diagnosed him.

“Cullen!” She chided. “When did you run out?”

“A few weeks ago. It hasn't been a problem… until today.”

“You haven't had enough sleep, you've been clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth all day which only makes it worse… Creators, you're carrying so much tension in your shoulders! Why do you do this to yourself when you know I can help you?”

“Because I'm a stubborn oaf of a man?”

That at least got her to laugh, and she kissed him softly. “At least you can admit it. Go take off your shirt and lie down, _vhenan._ I’ll get you some willowbark and give you a massage.”

Cullen swatted at her behind playfully as she turned, but did as he was told. Eliya undressed as she collected what she needed to help Cullen. She had commandeered one of his shirts to sleep in at Skyhold, and pulled it over her head. Then she crossed back over to the bed, positioning herself astride his hips so she could reach his neck and shoulders. Secretly, she hoped her touch and the feeling of her bare thighs against him would rouse Cullen’s attentions enough that he might help her address some of her own discomfort. He let out a groan of relief as soon as she got to work, making her giggle.

“Remember the first time I gave you a massage like this?” She asked playfully.

“Remember? Maker, how could I forget!”

“You were blushing so hard I thought you had a fever.”

“I couldn't help it - no woman had ever touched me like _that_ before. Not to mention the enormous crush I had on you. I had to keep a very tight rein on my self control…”

“Oh? And what would you have done otherwise?”

“Pulled you into my lap and kissed you senseless, as I ought to have.”

Eliya laughed again. “Lucky you weren't paying attention to me. I had to sit and fan myself for the longest time afterwards. Having my hands on you at last had me all hot and bothered… and _wet_ ,” she purred.

“Andraste’s breath, woman, you are magic in every sense of the word. Why are you so good to me?” He asked with another emphatic groan, as her hands worked out a terrible knot in his shoulder. Eliya leaned forward and kissed him gently on the ear.

“Helping you makes me happy, _vhenan_. Now relax.”

She worked away at his muscles for little while longer, enjoying the feeling of his warrior’s body under her palms. She'd seen these rippling back muscles in action when he trained, or as she peeked over his shoulder when they made love. Back when she lived with her clan, she'd always wondered what human men were like. Now she had possibly the finest one in Thedas sharing her bed.

Finally she leaned forwards again, tracing her fingers along his back. “Oh _Cullen…_ now you have me _aching_ for you. Perhaps you could use your own wonderful, strong hands and… Cullen?”

Noting his lack of response, Eliya tilted Cullen's head gently and brushed the hair back from his face. He was fast asleep. As if to reinforce the point, a snore rumbled out from deep in his chest at that very moment.

_Damn._

Eliya carefully slid herself off the bed, pulling a blanket up to cover him. Then she wrapped herself in a warm robe, grabbed one of Cullen's whiskey bottles, and went out onto her balcony. It was a chilly night, goosebumps spreading up her bare legs before she'd even sat down with her back against the wall. Normally she'd use a little magic to keep herself warm, but not tonight. Feeling the cold was the closest thing to being numb, and the drink would help that too. That's what she needed. A break from _everything._

It wasn't fair for her to feel this twinge of resentment towards Cullen - how could he know she needed him when she didn't say so? And how could she tell him, and add to his burdens, when he already carried so much weight? She'd seen how her injury at the Shrine of Dumat had affected him. He blamed himself for not being able to protect her, even though it was her fault really. She hadn't properly cleared the chamber before she called him in there. Her carelessness had caused him a great deal of anguish.

And really, she was being foolish. They made love all the time. Cullen was still as passionate and desirous of her as ever - perhaps more so, since her injury had healed. It was just that, well - sex seemed to be one of the few things that made her feel something she could bear. It made her feel like herself.

In the rawness of it, the fire and the need, she felt everything else fall away. In the afterglow, wrapped in Cullen's arms, there was blissful peace. In those moments she sometimes wondered if she was blowing her troubles out of proportion - surely life was not that difficult when she had such a wonderful man by her side?

But whether it took hours, or even days, the dark cloud hanging over her would always come back. She needed Cullen more and more to make it go away.

It never used to be this way. Before the Inquisition, living in the wilds with her clan, she’d never questioned who she was. She was alone, for the most part, but she was strong. She could hold herself up. As she climbed the treetops, ran the plains, swam in the rivers, even when she sat in camps, her spirit burned like the fire within her. She held power in her hands.

The other day, when her Council had left the War Room, Eliya had stood and stared at the map of Thedas before her. Markers denoting troops and agents and missions spread everywhere. The Inquisition had reach across all southern Thedas now, and connections further north. She was the head of what might be the mightiest force in the world. But it didn’t make her feel proud. It made her feel sick.

She knew the puissance of the Fade that she wielded, because it was a part of her. It built her up. But this Inquisition - as much as she loved it’s people, and believed in the cause, and hoped for it’s success… it was pulling her to pieces.

Now she just felt small and tired. Everywhere she went, there were so many hands outstretched and jobs to do. She was the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisitor and a friend and a lover and a hero. She was so many things to so many people that she was starting to forget who she was to herself.

All she wanted to do was help, to make things better. She wanted to be what they needed her to be. A champion. But her grip was slipping. Her shoulders were weary. The weight on her back never seemed to ease. The pain and the injustice of everything constantly pulled her down - and yet she signed up to do more and more. How could she not, in the face of so much need?

She had never had so many friends, and yet so often she felt more lonely than ever before. More than once she had wished for the comfort and council of Deshanna. She might understand what it was to have people pin their hopes upon you. People truly believed that she was sent here by their Maker, that His hand guided her. If she were to fall, their hope and faith would be shattered. But once again she felt the burning question… who was she to shape history?

And Cullen… he didn’t mean to, she knew it, but he made things harder in some ways too. As they had fallen deeper in love, his affection had taken on a sort of… reverence. He worshipped her, in a way - called her perfect, an angel, a hero. She wasn’t just the Inquisitor, she was _his_ Inquisitor. He had so much faith in her wisdom and goodness - or at least, his perception of such. It terrified her. And, as her thoughts came full circle - it was why she felt such a physical need for him. Somewhere along the lines, they’d stopped really talking. She didn’t want to fail or disappoint him, so she kept her fears and struggles quiet. She bore the pain with a patient smile and everyone told her how _strong_ she was. She felt like a fraud.

There were so many hands outstretched. So many lives held in the balance.

Once, she’d yearned for the friendship and closeness denied to her. She wanted to mean something to people.

Now she wondered if she ought to be more careful with her wishes.

**\---**

Eventually Eliya brushed the half frozen tears from her cheeks, sent a flush of warming magic through her skin and went back inside. She put the bottle of whiskey back where it belonged, and fasted the curtains so they wouldn’t be wakened by the bright morning light. She slid into bed, her back to Cullen, and felt as his arms instinctively reached out to pull her close. She lay for a time, listening to his breathing. Then sleep took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (as you might guess from the title) feels like an ode to 'Drown' by Bring Me The Horizon.
> 
> Regarding the first bit on the stairs - When I feel shitty and tired and overwhelmed, I often end up sitting in my car in my driveway. Sometimes there isn't even anyone at home that I'm avoiding - it's just peaceful to have that quiet space to yourself, to be in between things instead of ‘somewhere’.
> 
> Feeling overwhelmed with *feelings*? So is Eliya! That's what happens when you bottle things up, use sex as a coping mechanism, and try to escape your own vulnerability and fallability.... No one ever said it was easy, trying to live like a human being. 
> 
> Anyway. From next chapter, *things* will be happening. Not an expert when it comes to trigger warnings but I'll try to put some up in the chapter summaries where they might be needed. Next one will likely be a short chapter like this one... I could have combined them, but it'd mean delaying posting even longer, and I didn't want that.


	40. The Bird and the Worm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is the predator, and who is the prey?
> 
> "It couldn't be her. Hadn't he just - when had he last seen her? Surely someone would have noticed.
> 
> "Where is the Inquisitor?" he shouted to the nearest sentry."

The Shrine of Dumat was littered with corpses. Cullen strode through, trying to ignore the song of the red lyrium that surrounded him. It gave off an intense heat, and the smell mixed with all that blood made his stomach churn. There were more templar dead than Inquisition, thankfully. It hurt him to think that. These templars had been his brothers once. What Samson had done to them... the man would pay. As he made his way along, Cullen spotted a splash of green beneath a pile of templar bodies. It reminded him of something he couldn't place...   
  
The thought seized him and before he knew it Cullen was pushing the red templars aside, avoiding the shards of lyrium that jutted from their bodies. As he prepared to lift the final corpse he saw something else... golden hair, stained red in places by the blood that pooled beneath it.

 _No_.

It couldn't be her. Hadn't he just - when had he last seen her? Surely someone would have _noticed_ . 

"Where is the Inquisitor?" he shouted to the nearest sentry. The young man merely shrugged. Cullen felt rage bubbling up inside him. "FIND HER!"  
  
Terrified, Cullen moved the last body to reveal his greatest fear. Eliya's once bright green eyes stared up at him, dull and lifeless.   
  
No.   
  
Her face was pale but undamaged. It was her body... she had been torn open, a great gash had rent her flesh down to her insides. The edges of the wound sparkled with red lyrium crystals.   
  
No.   
  
The cut of the sword had destroyed her clothing, so her chest was exposed, breasts soaked in her own blood. Cullen couldn't bear it, couldn't believe it. He carefully knelt and pulled her body onto his lap, dragging the edges of her tunic across to cover her. He might have shook her, if there had been any hope in such a gesture.   
  
How? Surely someone would have noticed? It couldn't be her... but it was...   
  
A mirthless laugh interrupted his thoughts, and Cullen looked up to see Samson.   
  
"Did you think she'd be safe, Rutherford? How could you ever protect her? You've failed at everything you ever tried to do, you couldn't even do your job as Meredith's lap dog in the end."   
  
"You bastard."   
  
Samson just laughed again.   
  
"One of my templars did a good job on her, I see. Did you love her, Rutherford? I'd never have thought you capable of it. A mage and an elf... though I suppose people did call her the Herald of Andraste. Did you feel like fucking her brought you closer to the Maker? You still haven't realised that Chantry lied to us, used us. You could have been strong like me... instead soon you'll be dead like her."   
  
"She's not dead!" Cullen shouted, trying to block Samson's taunts from his mind. The voice he heard next made his heart leap with hope.   
  
"I'm gone, Cullen. But it doesn't have to stay this way."   
  
His eyes shot down towards her, certain it was her voice that had spoken. But she was lifeless in his arms. He stared at her - Was this going to be what drove him mad? The last time he'd heard voice like that was-   
  
Suddenly Eliya's eyes sparked back to life - but they weren't Eliya's eyes. Instead of green they were the misty, poisonous purple of a desire demon. Cullen growled and made to push her away but the demon grabbed hold of his arms.   
  
"She might be dead, Cullen dear, but I can bring her back to you. This way no one could ever part you. She'd be yours for all eternity... to do with what you will, to live the life you've always hoped for. It would be so easy, Cullen, so simple to have her back... let me help you.."   
  
The voice sounded like Eliya's, but he knew who truly spoke. The same demon that had taunted him with visions of Solona... back to torment him further with another he had now loved and lost. But he this time he wasn't trapped... this time there was no magical net ensnaring him.   
  
"You aren't her, demon, you'll never be her. I'll end you for what you've done..."   
  
With the full force of his strength, Cullen tore his arms free from the demon's grasp and wrapped his hands around its throat. Cullen's eyes were fixed on the purple eyes staring back up at him, willing them to go back to the gentle green ones her loved. The demon's hands scratched and scrabbled at him, but Cullen ignored the pain.   
                                                     
Somewhere nearby, Samson laughed. Cullen looked up, expecting an attack, but Samson had vanished. The shrine had vanished... where was he? A searing pain caused him to howl, as it felt like the flesh on his arms was pressed with a red hot poker. Cullen's eyes found the demon beneath him and saw... it was no demon. Eliya's green eyes stared frantically up at him, fading fast. Her palms were pressed to his forearms, and she was burning him to try and fight off his hands that crushed her throat. The realisation came to him and Cullen let go in horror, falling away off the bed.   
  
Eliya took in a huge, gasping breath, and then another, rolling onto her side. He heard her whimpers as he sat sprawled at the foot of her bed, dumbstruck.   
  
It had been a nightmare, just like all the others he had suffered since her injury... and yet _this_ nightmare almost led him to kill her.

He could see the flesh on his forearms blistering already... she'd had to fight him off. Was that how she had awoken, with him bearing down upon her, squeezing the life from her?  
  
He crawled back again, hoping she was alright, hoping... terrified at what he had done. To his shame, when he reached out a hand to touch his love, his Eliya, she flinched and moved away. Her eyes were wide with fear and bloodshot, panicked. Cullen fell back again and watched her from a safe distance. Her panicked gasps of breath had turned to trembling, racking lungfuls as tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to hold her, to protect her and make her feel safe... how could he do that when what she was afraid of, was him?   
  
"Eliya... please, I..."   
  
Cullen watched, distraught, as she scrambled to her feet and fled the room. The slam of the door echoed moments later.   
  
Once again he was left on his knees, in despair. His hope had left the room with Eliya, leaving his heart hollow and soul torn in two with the knowledge of what he had just done. That this time, he hadn't only failed to keep her safe - he was the villain who struck the blow. 

**\-----**

Eliya's bare feet slapped against the stone flags of the main hall as she fled across it. Normally she moved soundlessly, but today she paid little mind to stealth.There was nothing so loud as the thundering of her heartbeat.  
  
Eliya stole into the rotunda. Solas was asleep - she could see his form resting in the platform bed against the wall. The last time they'd spoken had been when she stopped him slaughtering the mages who had tortured his friend, the spirit of Wisdom. She hoped the time since had been enough for him to forgive her, to make peace with what had happened. She took a struggling, painful breath and prayed that when she woke him, she wouldn't see the same dark and unfocused eyes that had glared down at her just minutes ago.   
  
Eliya gingerly climbed the ladder and reached out to nudge his shoulder. Solas didn't react, probably somewhere deep in the Fade. Eliya prodded him again, a little harder this time, and managed to rasp out his name.   
  
Solas' jerked awake, turning quickly to face the intruder that had disturbed him.   
  
"Who are... vhe- Eliya? _Falon_ ? What is it?"   
  
Eliya made a small choked noise and shook her head, pulling at the collar of her nightshirt to draw his attention to her neck. She saw Solas' eyes widen in shock and knew it must look bad already. It felt bad.

“Who did this to you? Should I alert the guards?”

Eliya shook her head again, fresh tears starting to roll down her face. “Please, Solas… it hurts, I can't speak,” she rasped.

“ _Ir abelas…”_ he deferred, holding out his hand and guiding her to sit with her back against the wall. He knelt before her, and she felt the Fade shifting around them as the older elf gathered his magic. Long, slender fingers reached out to touch her swollen and abused flesh, bringing with them the familiar coolness of his particular brand of healing. Eliya closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall as he worked, though she had wrapped her arms tightly, protectively around her body.

The pain began to ebb away, and yet her fear remained. Again and again she relived the feeling of jerking awake, hurting and unable to draw breath, darkness encroaching on all sides. Her body was trapped, pinned down by a heavy weight that she could not dislodge no matter how hard she struggled. Cullen's face had been contorted with rage, and yet there was nothing behind his eyes. No focus, no feeling - just darkness in the place she usually found such warmth and affection. She'd fought futilely, and it was instinct that made her call forward her fire - thank goodness she hadn't done worse. She might have killed him. Should that matter when he'd almost killed her? She wasn't sure.

What scared her most was the moment when his eyes had snapped back to her face, suddenly alert, and yet his grip did not ease. She'd sent another pulse of heat into his flesh then, and watched as he fled and cowered, realisation writ upon his face. He'd wanted to comfort her, but how could she let him?

She felt Solas’ fingers brush her jaw, and opened her eyes to meet his watching her intensely. Her bottom lip quivered absurdly as she looked back at him, and she couldn't help it - she leaned forwards into his chest and sobbed. Solas didn't miss a beat; wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other brushing her hair gently. He whispered quiet things to her in elvhen; she didn't listen hard enough to distinguish what he meant but it comforted her nonetheless.

Eliya tried to gather her resolve; to put on her brave face and let this experience simply roll off her. But the steely core she had so often retreated behind seemed to have disintegrated. She found herself clutching at remnants like scraps of fabric; but there was no longer anything to hide behind. She felt raw. Shaken. Afraid.

“I must ask you again to tell me who did this,” Solas spoke quietly still, his anger clear in every syllable. What could she say? He wouldn't understand what had happened… he'd probably attack Cullen, when she had already hurt him. Oh.

She realised that Cullen must have been in pain too. Those burns were serious, and he could hardly go to the Infirmary with them. People would ask questions. She shouldn't have hurt him like that, he needed help. Eliya pulled back from Solas’ arms, trying to form a plan.

“I'm sorry Solas, I'm being ridiculous. Thank you for helping me calm down, and for healing me… it's really not -”

“Eliya. Tell me.” There was a righteous fury burning in Solas’ eyes. He wouldn't let this rest, and she was afraid of what he might do if he discovered the truth from someone else. Perhaps she could help tame his wrath, if she told him the whole truth.

“It was an accident, Solas. He didn't mean to -”

“Who didn't mean to?”

“Cullen was having a nightmare. He didn't know what he was doing, he snapped out of it as soon as he woke up properly.”

 _“Is ju' sildeara ma' nan_ ,” he snarled, surging forwards. She'd rarely seen him this angry. Eliya could feel his magic gathering, pulsing in the ether - she'd fought alongside him often enough to know he was immensely powerful. She'd rarely felt it channeled in this way before; with the exception of the day they'd found Wisdom bound. It scared her.

“ _Mana! Sathan, tel’ din._ ” Eliya tried to calm him, pressing her hand to his chest, pushing him back. “Solas, you won't hurt him. I need your help.”

“What would you ask of me?” He softened, his own hand covering hers.

“ _I_ hurt him, Solas… I had to burn him to get him to wake up, to let go. He needs healing - you must go to him.”

“I will not. Let him suffer.”

“You will, because I ask it of you.”

“Would you ask me to tend to him and watch as you invite him back into your arms? The man who might have killed you? _Ar banalasa._ ”

“No, I… I cannot go with you. I need time, to be alone. But if you do not go, I will go in your place. I don't want him to be in pain.”

“What of your pain, _ma’ fenor sa?_ ”

“You have eased it, Solas. My heart is heavy - that you cannot fix. Please do what I have asked of you.”

He looked frustrated - like he wanted to continue arguing. Like he didn't want her to leave. Like there was more he wished to say. But instead he let go of her hand.

_“Ma nuvenin.”_

Eliya climbed down from his loft bed to make way for him, and watched as he departed in the direction of her rooms. It was then that she realised she had nowhere to go.

She needed to be alone, where no one would find her until she was ready to be found. But there was nowhere empty left in Skyhold. The Inquisition had become so large the fortress and the valley below were practically bursting at the seams. She would go to the place where her clans’ trees were planted, but the guards would see her go and soon enough someone would follow.

Eliya let out a loud sigh, her hands almost unconsciously lifting to brush the newly healed skin of her throat. It no longer hurt, but she could still feel the sickening sensation of her windpipe being crushed, sinews straining against tightening fingers.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a gentle hand brushed her shoulder - Cole.  
  
“I'm sorry, I scared you. But you were already scared. Come with me, I can help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :| sorry
> 
> Elvhen translations:
> 
> Ir abelas = I'm sorry  
> Is ju' sildeara ma' nan = He will feel my vengeance  
> Mana! Sathan, tel' din = Wait! Please, do not.  
> Ma fenor sa = my dear one  
> Ma nuvenin = as you wish


	41. Ready to suffer, ready to hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen faces the aftermath of what he has done, and must grapple with what to do next.
> 
>  
> 
> “No. She said she wanted to be alone.”
> 
> “Cole, surely -”
> 
> “No. Let her find peace. When she's ready, I'll help.”
> 
> “Best to leave the kid to it, I think. We can cover for Sunflower in the meantime. Don't want people to panic.”

Cullen was finding it difficult to measure the passage of time. Perhaps it was because he kept wildly swinging from frenzied movement to stasis. One minute, he was pulling his clothes on hurriedly, determined to follow after Eliya. The next he sunk onto the floor in despair, wondering if he ought to do them all a favour and throw himself off the balcony. Then he was up again, deciding he must go back to his daily tasks and allow her to come to him when she chose to. But the pain of trying to fit his vambraces over his burnt flesh reminded him that he had almost killed the Inquisitor; surely his own men would be sent for shortly to imprison him. Perhaps he would even be executed, or worse, stripped of his rank and exiled. Never to see her again. He would not flee punishment - whatever she chose to do, he would accept it. He instead took his seat on her small couch, awaiting whomever would be sent for him. 

Yet when Cullen heard the door below swing open and the sound of light footsteps, he was filled with a foolish hope - that perhaps she had come back to him. “Eliya?” He called out, his voice choked and desperate.

“It is not her,” came the stern reply as Solas reached the top of the stairs. Why would he be there? “She bid me to come to you,” he replied, even though Cullen never asked the question aloud. 

“Why?” Cullen was wary - he respected Eliya's friendship with the man without understanding it. But he seemed an odd choice of person to send, given the circumstances.

“She informed me that you are injured, and require healing.” Solas replied curtly, with a tinge of displeasure. 

Cullen looked down at his red and blistered forearms in surprise. The burns were quite bad - but the pain seemed like a fitting chastisement for what he had done. “No. I don't want healing, I deserve to feel this. I ought to suffer.” 

“I agree. But she was insistent. And I gave her my word. So I will do as she wishes, as will you.” 

There seemed little use in arguing the point. Cullen jerked his head in agreement and proffered his arms to the mage. Solas was not gentle nor did he waste any time in flourishes or ceremony - he took hold of each arm and cast his magic until the skin was no longer raw and blistered. He stopped, however, while there were still faint pink handprints that would be identifiable to someone who knew what they were looking at. Cullen knew what he was looking at.

“A reminder.”

“Solas - where is she? I must speak with her,” Cullen demanded.

Solas laughed, an angry and mirthless sound. “What could you possibly have to say?”

Cullen was slightly taken aback. “I need to explain what happened. She doesn't understand -”

“She understands all she needs to. She woke up with your hands around her throat.”

“It isn't - there's more to it than that. I didn't mean to…”

“Is that meant to be a comfort? That you  _ unintentionally  _ almost killed her as she slept? If you have no control over yourself, how can you ever guarantee that she will be safe around you?”

“I… I can't, but perhaps if I… I would do anything to ensure - I would never -” Cullen's mind scrambled for a decent answer but there was none. He knew what Solas said was true. He was a threat to her life.  All his vows to protect her and he had never considered that he himself posed a danger. He should stay far away from her.

He  _ should.  _ But there was more to it than that, wasn't there?

Things were different now. This wasn't him trying to prevent a relationship from growing, as it once had been. They were so far beyond the worries and protests that had kept them apart. They'd given all of themselves to each other now. They'd begun to build a life together, one that would last beyond the days of the Inquisition. He loved her, and she loved him. There was no turning back. They could get past this.

He would not let go of this without a fight. 

“We will find a way. Tell me where she is,” Cullen spoke again, with renewed conviction. Solas’ face twisted into an ugly snarl.

“You once stood before me and swore that no harm would befall her at your hands. You have broken that vow, and you expect me to lead you back to her? Like a lamb to the slaughter? I will not allow it.”

“It is not a matter of what you  _ allow _ , Solas. She is not a lamb. She is stronger than you give her credit for.”

“Her compassion makes her vulnerable to people  _ like you  _ who would abuse it. The woman that came to me this morning had been broken. I told you, if you ever hurt her you would suffer for it.”

Cullen heard the threat implicit in Solas’ words. “I am not afraid of you,” he replied, defiant.

“ _ Ma ady ea, da’len,”  _ Solas hissed in response. Cullen didn't understand most of what he'd said - but he'd been trying to learn elvhen, as a surprise for Eliya, and there was one word he recognised.

“I am not a child. Does it make you feel important, Solas, talking down to people in a language they don't understand?” Cullen was proud to see a flash of surprise cross his adversary's face. It was quickly replaced with his previous mask of disdain and anger.

“And you, Commander? Is your reliance on violence a reflection of your feelings of inadequacy? Does using your fists to solve every problem give you the sense of satisfaction and importance you clearly seek?”

Cullen laughed in his face. “In case my title confuses you, Solas, I command an army. If I didn't have an aptitude for violence - and a knowledge of where it ought to be applied - I’d hardly be doing my job. Does it make me feel satisfied? No. I get that from going to bed each night with Eliya in my arms. I get my validation from knowing that she loves me. It's the most wonderful thing Solas - the greatest joy. And yet you'll never know the feeling. A pity, for you.”

“Perhaps. And yet I imagine that I might find similar joy in tearing you to shreds. Your arrogance and truculence have gone unchallenged for far too long.”

Perhaps it was because of the animosity that had existed between himself and Solas for some time, or maybe it was a reaction to the misery and futility of the situation he had found himself in. Perhaps he was, as Solas suggested, simply a brute who solved problems with his fists. Whatever the reason, Cullen’s hackles were raised and his blood was boiling. He wanted this fight, wanted to hurt and be hurt, to vent his frustration.

“Just try it, Solas,” he goaded. “I dare you. You say I'm all savagery, well, I say you're all talk. In a real fight - no weapons, no magic, just physical force - I'll beat you into the ground.” 

Cullen readied himself, waiting for the moment when he’d see the decision in Solas’ eyes and know the hit was coming - not if, but when. But even waiting half a moment was too long. 

Solas’ fist swung up almost instantly. It connected to the side of his face with a crack. Cullen’s head whipped around. He tasted the coppery flavour of blood as the inside of his cheek cut against his teeth. 

With a feral grin, Cullen swung back. He felt the crunch of Solas’ nose beneath his knuckles, and dodged the next fist aiming for the other side of his head. One, two, three punches he rained down on his adversary’s midsection, paying little heed to the blows he received in return. He was used to taking hits.  Solas might be a warrior, but he wasn’t practiced in this kind of combat. Cullen was wearing him down. 

With a grunt the elf brought his knee up hard. It caught Cullen in the groin and he faltered. Solas took the chance to land another solid blow on the side of his head. Not as effective, but enough for him to get some distance and bring his guard back up. 

Cullen took a deep breath and pushed the pain and the sick feeling in his gut to the back of his mind. Then he charged forward, dodging the uppercut aimed at his jaw. He slammed against Solas with his shoulder, pushing him backward and into Eliya's desk. A glass lantern fell and shattered.

Solas kicked out again, catching the side of Cullen's knee. His leg buckled, but Cullen’s arm was wound around the other man’s midsection. 

They both went down, grappling for advantage. Cullen came out on top, pressing his forearm into Solas’ neck and his head against the floor. He was surprised to feel strong hands pulling his shoulders back - he hadn't heard the footsteps thundering up the stairs nor Varric and Cassandra’s shouts. 

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing?”

“Looks like a dick measuring contest to me, Seeker.”

Cullen was still being held back by Cassandra - he had forgotten how strong she was. “Let me go!” He shouted, trying to fight her grip.

“I  _ will not  _ until you come to your senses!” she yelled back. 

“What in the void happened here?” Varric demanded. “Where's Sunflower?” 

“An excellent question! One Solas has refused to answer!”

“Only to protect her from you!”

“Why would she need to be protected from Cullen?”

“She came to me this morning, needing healing, because  _ Commander Cullen  _ had almost strangled the life out of her!”

“What? He would never!”

“That's not an accusation to throw around lightly, Chuckles.”

“Ask him. See if he denies it.”

Cassandra released her iron hold and Cullen struggled to his feet, throwing a venomous glance back at Solas. He felt a twinge of pride as he watched the man trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose. 

“Well? What in the world has happened?”

“He's not lying. I hurt her, and she went to him for help. But you have to believe me, I didn't do it on purpose.”

“No offence, Curly, but we're going to need more information than that,” Varric replied slowly.

Cullen wiped the blood from his own mouth, considering. He didn't have a choice. Cassandra knew his past, but that wasn't enough. He'd have to tell the whole truth if he wanted anyone to understand. If he was ever going to have a chance to speak with Eliya and explain it to her. 

“I stopped taking lyrium before I joined the Inquisition.” 

He paused, but no one reacted. They'd all figured that much out already, it seemed.

“The withdrawal has been… difficult. Most of the symptoms have abated, but some show no sign of going away. I have… very vivid, very unpleasant nightmares. When the Circle Tower in Fereldan fell, during the Blight, I was held captive. One desire demon found particular joy in torturing me. Last night I dreamt that Eliya was - that she had… she was killed by Red Templars. That same demon has possessed her body and I… I…”

“You were trying to kill it.” Varric finished for him. Cullen nodded, despondent. 

“But I woke up, and my hands were on  _ her.  _ She used her magic to get me to let go and then she ran. I didn't know what to do.”

“And she came to you, Solas?” Cassandra demanded. Cullen didn't look up, but if he had he might have seen a flash of disquiet cross the other man’s face.

“She did. She asked for healing and explained what happened. I was understandably angered. But she bade me come here to heal Commander Cullen as well,” Solas replied coolly.

Cassandra paused for a moment, as though to do inspect Cullen for injuries. 

“But you came up here and started a fight instead?” Varric prompted. 

“No. I did as she requested. Commander Cullen, however -”

“I asked you to tell me where she was! I needed to apologise, to explain and you wouldn't -”

“No, I would not! I would not lead you back to her after you -”

“Be quiet, the both of you. Solas, where  _ is  _ the Inquisitor?”

“I left her in my quarters. She had asked to be left alone.”

“Are you sure? She wasn't there when I came past,” Varric asked. “The only person I saw was Cole.”

“Yes - I saw Cole too, on my way into the hall. He was the one that told me I should come up here,” Cassandra agreed.

“Ah. Then it is likely he is trying to help,” Solas replied.

“Meaning?”

“Cole can sense when things are wrong. He likely directed you both this way to prevent our - altercation - from getting out of hand.”

“And that means he probably knows where Sunflower is too.”

Cassandra made a frustrated noise. “Very well. I'll go and look for -”

“I'm here.” 

Cole’s quiet voice came from near the stairs and made them all jump.

“Cole! Where is she? Please, let me speak with her -”

“I don't think that is a good idea, Curly, you need to -”

“What we need is to sort this mess out. Cole, I will go, tell me-”

_ “She hurts. Hands gripping her throat but it's the pressure on her heart that pains her most. Worse and worse with every day. She's never enough. So much weight but no one else should have to bear it… she can't breathe but maybe it's better.” _

If his heart wasn't already broken, those words would have done it. Instead he feels the shattered pieces ground into dust.

“ _ Maker _ ,” he groaned.

“Shit. I knew Sunflower was having a hard time, but that is -”

“What do you mean?” Cullen cut across him.

“Come on, Curly. She's been miserable these last few months. A few of us have tried to talk to her about it, but she just brushes everyone off. Says she's tired.”

Alarm bells went off in Cullen's head. He'd heard those words uttered more than once. They had made sense at the time, of course she was tired, there was always so much work to do. But there had been more to it, how could he not have seen…

“Cole, if the Inquisitor is in trouble, let us help,” Cassandra asked patiently. Cole cast his eyes over them all dolefully.

“No. She said she wanted to be alone.”

“Cole, surely -”

“No. Let her have some peace. When she's ready, I'll help.”

“Best to leave the kid to it, I think. We can cover for Sunflower in the meantime. Don't want people to panic.”

“No, we wouldn't want everyone to know what the Commander has done to her,” Solas hissed.

“Hey, you heard what Curly said happened.”

“Does that excuse -”

“Enough, Solas. Go and get yourself cleaned up,” Cassandra barked. 

With another angry look in Cullen's direction, Solas straightened his tunic and departed. Cullen was staring determinedly at the carpet beneath his feet, dreading the conversation that would undoubtedly follow. 

“Hey, Curly. Look - I always knew you’d been through some rough stuff, but I didn’t -”

“If you don’t mind, Varric, I’d really rather not talk about it,” Cullen replied curtly.

“ _ He is quiet, behind the noise. He thought he was free from the chains, but they chase him, and the marks don’t seem to fade. Uldred, the demons, Meredith - they all marked you. But they didn’t make you. _ ”

“Cole, please, don’t,” Cullen pleaded.

“But I can help, I want to help.”

“I know. Just - not now, please. Go to Eliya, help her. She’s more important.”

Cullen raised his eyes, catching the end of a significant look between Varric and Cassandra. “You two don’t need to babysit me.”

“And leave you to get in another fistfight?”

Cullen let out a dark laugh. “I’ll try and keep myself under control.”

“What are you going to do? Until she… you know. Comes back,” Varric asked.

_ If she comes back.  _ The thought raced across Cullen’s mind, leaving a dark and hollow feeling in its wake. It must have shown on his face.

“She will come back, Curly. Just give her time.”

“Right. Well… I suppose I’ll clean myself up. And go do my job.”

“If you need some time -” Cassandra offered, but Cullen shook his head.

“If I don’t do something, I’ll just keep going over it again and again. There’s no point, not until she agrees to see me.”

“If that is your decision, I’ll respect it. We’ll keep this incident contained as best we can in the meantime.”

“I appreciate it, Cass.”

Cullen watched the other two leave, before traipsing into Eliya’s washroom and looking at his reflection in the mirror. His face was swollen in the places where Solas had landed punches, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. 

There was cold water in the basin. He took a breath, and stuck his whole head under. The cuts stung a little, but the cold felt good against his battered skin and tired eyelids.   
  
Resurfacing, Cullen pushed back his sodden hair with one hand, and tried to pull himself together. He was going to shave, go see a healer, and go to work. He would hold on to the hope that she  _ would  _ come to see him. That he would prove how sorry he was, how much he loved her. And even if it took time, he’d get her back in his arms. 

He had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooorrrrrrrryyyyyyyyy it's been much longer between updates than I had planned. That fight scene was just super difficult to write out.
> 
> FYI, I think I've written Solas as a massive jerk. It works for the purposes of this story but if you're a fan of his, please don't hate me. I mostly only dislike him because of the many jerk things that he does aka wanting to ruin the world. 
> 
> Part of the reason this is late is also because I got caught up writing some Satinalia-themed fluff about Cullen and a different Lavellan. Unlike most of my other WIP side-fics of varying lengths, this one is pretty much good to go so keep an eye out for it in the coming days.


	42. The Herald's Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliya finally finds rest, peace, and comfort. But the real world awaits, and she's unsure what to do next. 
> 
> "Little flashes of moments came to her as she slept - memories or dreams or half-conscious imaginings. A woman with long, yellow blonde hair. Humming and whispering sweet words as she cradled Eliya in her arms. The feeling of slender fingers combing through her own mass of golden waves. Warmth and welcome."

Eliya woke up in a forest that seemed foreign and familiar at the same time. Wait, was it  _ waking up  _ if she was fairly sure she was actually still asleep? How do you describe waking up inside a dream? Regardless of the phrasing, there was something about the place that felt not real - like a fuzziness around the edges. 

It was peaceful though. It reminded her of the forests she'd explored as a young child, when she was still a Thiranduel. Something about the colour of the tree trunks… She thought about getting up, exploring, but the patch of grass she was lying on was so comfortable. And she felt  _ so  _ tired, even here in this dream. Her bones ached. Someone far away seemed to be singing, a lullaby that made her eyelids heavy. It was familiar too, like the forest. She closed her eyes and embraced sleep again.

_ Iras ma ghilas, da'len _ __   
_ Ara ma'nedan ashir _ __   
_ Dirthara lothlenan'as _ _   
_ __ Bal emma mala dir

Little flashes of moments came to her as she slept - memories or dreams or half-conscious imaginings. A woman with long, yellow blonde hair. Humming and whispering sweet words as she cradled Eliya in her arms. The feeling of slender fingers combing through her own mass of golden waves. Warmth and welcome. It was only when she heard the lullaby again, sung by a sweet but off-key voice, that she realised it was her mother. By the time Eliya had opened her eyes, the woman was gone. If, in fact, she had truly been there in the first place. But Eliya did not feel alone; wherever she was, this forest felt like home. The trees whispered over the breeze that ruffled her hair and she lay quietly in the grass. 

_ Tel'enfenim, da'len _ __   
_ Irassal ma ghilas _ __   
_ Ma garas mir renan _ __   
_ Ara ma'athlan vhenas _ _   
_ __ Ara ma'athlan vhenas

_ She was a bad singer too,  _ Eliya thought to herself.  _ I forgot that about her. Gods, I've forgotten so much about her.  _

“She's still with you. We all are.”

Eliya wasn't sure where the voice had come from - it seemed to echo from the trees. It was not her mother's. But it was familiar - deep, yet womanly. Wise and strong. 

“Deshanna?” Eliya whispered, voice breaking even still. 

“Yes,  _ da’len _ .”

Eliya sat up hastily, and found herself facing her former Keeper and mentor. She looked just as Eliya remembered from the day she had departed for the Conclave. Olive skin decorated with vallaslin dedicated to Dirthamen, god of secrets and knowledge. Raven hair, with a gentle dusting of grey, pulled back into a long braid along her back. Kind yet sharp brown eyes, which now looked back at her with a touch of amusement. Every element of her appearance was correct - but just like her surroundings, she seemed softly out of focus.. 

“How are - Are you… really here?”

“Yes, and no. If you reach out to touch me you’ll find nothing in my place. But you know the stories of our people.  _ Ma ane souveri _ . You are in need,  _ da’len _ , and so I make myself heard.” 

Eliya had to smile. Of course not even the beyond would stop her  _ ghi’lan,  _ her friend from coming to her aid. Deshanna had always been there for her. The warm feeling in Eliya’s heart quickly turned bitter and cold. She remembered that when Clan Lavellan needed their First the most, she hadn’t gone to their aid. 

“I…  _ Ir abelas _ , Deshanna. I'm so sorry I failed you.” 

“Hush,  _ emm’asha _ . Did you raise the blade that struck us down? You are not to blame.  _ Vena atish’i en’an’sal’in _ . Ease your heart. You carry Clan Lavellan with you.”

“I know. I'm trying to… I'll try to make up for it. To make you proud. All of you.”

“You misunderstand. I do not mean that you carry the burden of our memory. We were already proud,  _ emm’asha _ . You have done so well for our people. You carry us with you, because we walk beside you in spirit. We will always be with you, no matter what comes.”

Eliya choked back a sob. Whether this was truly her Keeper, or just a spirit sent to ease her pain, the words set something free. 

“I don't think I ever thanked you,  _ lethallan _ . For taking me in, for treating me with kindness. For loving me even though I was different. For everything you did, for all of us.”

“It was a joy to care for you and watch you grow, Eliya. And yet, I often felt ashamed, knowing how out of place you felt in our clan, in our world. I asked myself, could I have done more to ensure your happiness?” 

“There was nothing more to do, Deshanna. That was not where I belonged. I know that now. But you made what could have been an unbearably lonely life far more comfortable, with all your understanding.”

“Thank you,  _ da’len _ . Perhaps there is a lesson to be learnt here. That even when things are not perfect, there is still joy to be found in small comforts.”

Eliya sighed. “Now I know it must be you,  _ ghi’lan _ , trying to teach me so. But nothing I do…”

“I will stop you before you do yourself a great disservice,  _ da’len _ . The presence of evil and pain in the world does not diminish the importance of goodness. Even the smallest acts of love shine like torches in the face of darkness.”

“She's right, you know,” came Cole’s quiet voice from beside her, making Eliya jump. 

“Cole, you scared me! I don’t remember how I got to this place. What is... why am I here?”

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Sorry. I’m trying to show you… but you don't seem to see like I do. You needed help, a break from all the hurt. I brought you here… and I'm here because I want to help,” the boy explained.

“So is this… this is just a dream? Is she… real?”

“She’s like a mirror, but the person who stood in it is gone. It remembers. The spirit saw her when she lived and it liked what she did, how much she helped. Now she wants to help you, because you help too. You always have. You just don't see it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am a spirit. I first saw Deshanna in the Fade when she was but a child. She and I would play together. We forged a bond, and I followed her throughout her life. Not unlike the way Cole connected with Cole, just a happier story. You still seek her wisdom and guidance… and forgiveness. She can no longer answer, so I came here to give them to you, on her behalf.”

“You're hurting, helpless, haunted. The lives stack up. But do your choices? When this is over you wonder where you will stand. What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails?” Cole muttered, rocking back and forth in the grass beside her. 

“I've heard you talk to the others like this before, but not me. Why now, Cole? What do you see in me?”

“You're too bright. Like counting birds against the sun. The mark makes you more.” 

“Oh.” Eliya felt foolish, she didn’t want to say that she didn’t understand again. How could she be ‘more’? And she certainly didn’t feel bright. 

“When you sleep it gets easier. Clearer pictures, in focus for a moment at a time. Past the light… War and weariness. Blood and battle. Life learning to lead. Clash. Kill. You reach across, mindful, meaning. You pull it through to this side, make it real here. And past that, the weight of all on you. All the hopes you carry, fears you fight. You are theirs. It must be very hard.”

Eliya watched the strange boy for a moment, her bottom lip trembling. And then the floodgates opened - she cried fat tears that dropped heavily into the grass beneath her, soaked her clothing, left salty trails along her cheeks. Cole sat beside her quietly, a hand on her shoulder for comfort. 

“I hope I help,” he spoke softly again.

“You do, please don’t think otherwise. I’m… I'm sorry, Cole,” she managed to stammer out between sobs. “I'm being stupid. You just… what you said. That's exactly how I feel.”

“It's hard. Finding words for things that aren't. That's why you don't tell them.”

Eliya nodded. 

“I want to help,” Cole added. “I can't make you forget. But I can help.”

“But Cole, you  _ feel  _ everything, and you know what to do to help. That's my problem. I feel too much and it gets in the way. Someone always gets hurt. If I were tougher, I could make better decisions. Maybe I'd have saved more people. Maybe I'd feel less  _ guilty.  _ I don't want to feel this. I hate it.”

“Robbing people of their fears is never a kindness. At best, it is a mistake borne of compassion. Without pain, and fear, and failure, we cannot learn. We cannot grow,” Cole recited.

Eliya was quiet for a moment. “Divine Justinia said that - or, the spirit, in the Fade, who took her form did.” 

Cole nodded. “I've been learning. I used to do that. Think it would be better for people to forget. But now I know. Not all hurt is bad. Something comes after that can make it more. So I'm trying to focus on the something. You are something. You’ve given people something. You're bright in the dark.”   
  
“But… it’s not  _ enough,  _ Cole.”

“You hold yourself to an impossible standard,  _ da’len _ ,” came Deshanna’s voice again. “You cannot save everyone. You cannot fix the whole world. It was broken long before you found yourself with that mark.”

“You saw the future. The other one, from Redcliffe. What could have been. You saw the world burning. Pain and destruction, despair everywhere. That was a year ago. It hasn't happened. Because of you.” 

“Corypheus isn't dead yet. It could still happen.” Eliya protested. 

“And you will do everything in your power to ensure it does not come to pass. You have already done more than anyone could have expected. You've already given more than anyone could have asked. No matter where you go from here, you have no cause to feel ashamed.” Deshanna replied. 

“They trust you. Even when they don't agree. Even though sometimes it hurts. You've given them all a chance. To fight. To stand up for the little people. To change the story. To right their wrongs. To be a part of something bigger. To stand on the right side of history. To help. To atone. To prove they're more than what people see. They'll stand by your side through anything.” Cole chimed in. 

“They don't… they don't hate me? For not being able to…” 

“No. None of them. They're proud. You make their burdens lighter. And they know how much it's hurt you. They don't want you to hurt. You helped them and they want to help you.” 

“I… thank you, Cole. That…  _ ma tu em shathe. _ ”

Cole smiled affectionately back at her. “I can hear it, in your head.”

Eliya cast her eyes around the clearing, trying to memorise the peaceful place. Perhaps the next time she felt overcome, she could remember this moment and the counsel of her trusted friends. Then she sighed. She needed to go back, to start resolving the problems that would inevitably be waiting.

“You don't have to leave. Not yet. There's more time. More to do,” Cole informed her. 

That sent a wave of relief flooding through her. More time, more time without responsibilities or expectations or decisions. What had she done to keep herself occupied before the Inquisition? 

_ Oh. _

“Cole? What is out there, beyond the trees?” 

The boy turned his gentle gaze upon her. “Whatever you want to find. This is your place, I'm just helping to make it more.”

At that, Eliya sprang to her feet. “Will you be able to find me?” 

Cole nodded, and watched with a smile as she ran barefoot out of the clearing.

\---

Eliya’s feet carried her swiftly through the familiar forest, leaping over fallen trees and crunching through the leaves underfoot. She could hear the life of the forest flying around her, birds and creatures calling and the voices of the trees carrying on the wind. She found the tallest tree and climbed it; wondering what she'd see once she reached the top. The answer was a world that seemed to write itself into being before her eyes. Snow-capped mountains sat on the horizon, at the end of a vast rolling plain broken up with rivers, lakes and more trees. She watched a gleaming white herd of halla thundering across the landscape; she wanted to run with them. So she wound her way out of the tree and chased after them.

This was her paradise. When she tired of frolicking, a look over her shoulder presented a cliff on the edge of a deep blue lake. She took a running leap and dove down into the water, basking in the coolness and quiet. When she reached the shore, she wandered through a garden of flowers before returning to the forest, settling at the foot of a gargantuan tree alive with all manner of creatures. It was a mother of the forest; many other trees had sprouted from its seeds. 

No matter how fast she ran, how deep she swam, how far she jumped, Eliya never grew tired or weary. She was free in a world that bent to her will. 

But she was alone. 

She'd spent years practically on her own, wandering the forest and protecting her clan. 

Now she spent almost every day surrounded by people. Allies and friends. And now with a lover more precious than she could ever have dreamed of. 

Which was better? Freedom and isolation, or companionship and responsibility? 

Eliya examined the mark on her hand. The Anchor meant it didn't matter what she preferred - she had to go back. She had to finish Corypheus.

Then she thought about Cullen. The feeling of his arms around her. The sound of his surprised laugh. The overwhelming affection in his eyes when he looked at her, as though he never expected to be so in love. 

With or without the mark, she'd choose to go back. She'd choose him. Pain and difficulty were nothing compared to what she felt for him. 

Cole appeared by her side again. 

“It's bittersweet but better. Having something to lose. But everything to gain.”

Eliya nodded, and smiled. The sun was setting through the trees now, casting shadows and warm dancing light across the scene. 

“You broke your promise but it can still be mended.”

“I know. I'll explain. I'll tell him I'm sorry.”

“And the other?”

Eliya tilted her head in confusion. “What do you…”

“You're afraid. That he loves The Inquisitor. That he worships The Herald. That when this is over, you'll just be you.” 

“Oh. Yes. I don't know the answer to that, Cole.”

“I can show you something that I know. Maybe it will help?” Cole stood up beside her, offering his hand. Curious, Eliya let him pull her to her feet and followed as the boy lead her through the trees. After a moment she started to hear the sound of laughing - children laughing as they played. Eliya held her breath as the scene came into view. There was a simple homestead in the distance, windows warm with light. It was surrounded by cleared land where horses grazed happily, and fields lush with crops ready to harvest. Standing at the edge of the trees with their backs to Eliya, were two figures. Cullen, and herself. His arm was draped over her shoulder, pulling her close as his lips pressed against her hair. They were watching two children running through the grass, chasing butterflies and crickets in the warm evening air. 

“What is this? It can't be the future, Cole, even you don't…” Eliya asked, voice choked with emotion. 

“It's his. He thinks it when he hurts, and it makes him feel better. He thinks it when you are sad, or when you are away, or when he is worried. It's his hope.”

Eliya crept forward, trying to see more.

“He wants to have two children? We've never talked about kids…”

“The details don't matter. It could be ten or one, a boy or a girl, even a mabari. The house could be yours or someone else's. He doesn't mind. He just hopes for peace. And you.” 

  
“Thank you, Cole. I understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo looks like I just had an unplanned two months hiatus. Thanks so much to everyone who commented and left kudos in the meantime! Sorry to leave you hanging - just had to fight massive waves of apathy and some serious writers block. I've written about 3 or 4 half-finished smaller fics in the time being, but it's like this was the one story that just wouldn't go anywhere.
> 
> Partly because I find these kind of 'dream scenes' really unfulfilling if it's just like 'oh yes of course why didn't i think of it that way now all my problems are solved' but there needs to be some sort of progress. And Cole is super hard to write so I went back and watched all of his scenes. 
> 
> Anyway, I have a pretty clear plan for where I want the rest of this to go, and we're looking at another 20-25 chapters. I'll try to upload at least one a week from here on out.
> 
>  
> 
> Elvhen translations! (some done roughly with the LingoJam translator)
> 
> Iras ma ghilas, da'len  
> Ara ma'nedan ashir  
> Dirthara lothlenan'as  
> Bal emma mala dir  
> Tel'enfenim, da'len  
> Irassal ma ghilas  
> Ma garas mir renan  
> Ara ma'athlan vhenas  
> Ara ma'athlan vhenas
> 
> that's from the Dalish lullaby Mir Da'len Somniar. It means:  
> Where will you go, little one  
> Lost to me in sleep?  
> Seek truth in a forgotten land  
> Deep with in your heart.  
> Never fear, little one,  
> Wherever you shall go.  
> Follow my voice--  
> I will call you home.  
> I will call you home.
> 
> ghi’lan = teacher
> 
> Ma ane souveri = you are weary
> 
> Ir abelas = I'm sorry
> 
> emm’asha = my girl
> 
> Vena atish’i en’an’sal’in = find peace within


	43. Wait for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something else wanders the Fade in wait for Eliya. In the waking world, Cullen waits.
> 
> "She has a picture of you. From Haven, when it all started. There was a snowstorm and she'd never seen one before. Everything was so white and the wind so strong. Then she saw you. Head bowed, shoulders bunched, making your way out past the walls. Beating against the tide, weathering the storm. Enduring like Andraste until you reached your goal. You could have turned back or found shelter. But you didn't.”

A real home. A proper family. Freedom to live in peace and do what she wanted.

That's what Cullen dreamed of, for her. For them both, their shared future. It filled her with a powerful longing - but, for the first time in a long time, it also gave her hope and not despair. She didn't know why it felt so different. Eliya watched the scene Cole had showed her for a little longer, until the sun had sunk fully below the horizon. Then she turned to walk back into the forest. But there, in the shadows, she spotted something strange. Eyes - dark red eyes.

She squinted for a moment, as her sight adjusted to the blackness of the forest compared to the colour of the sunset scene she'd spent so long examining. Soon she was able to distinguish the host of those mysterious eyes. A wolf, black as the shadows it was cloaked in. The beast was massive - sitting on its hindquarters its face was still almost level with Eliya's own. It made no move nor gave any signs of aggression; it was simply watching her, and now Eliya was watching back.

Their stalemate stretched into a long moment. There was something familiar about the creature, something which called to Eliya and told her to trust it, to move closer.

“Stay back.”

The voice surprised her, coming from somewhere to her right, and Eliya's head whipped around to spot it’s source. Deshanna had returned, and was striding purposefully through the trees until she stood between Eliya and the wolf.

“ _Ea darem, harellan!_ ” She spat in the beast’s direction, hands curling into fists.

“Keeper?” Eliya asked uncertainly, but she saw the way the wolf’s snout had begun curling into a snarl.

“He is not your friend, _emm’asha._ He comes to deceive and destroy. Look closer. It is the Dread Wolf that stalks you.”

The beast locked eyes with Eliya again, tilting its head as it panted gently. But Eliya recoiled as she watched four more crimson eyes open, tracking backwards along its massive skull. It examined her a moment longer, before getting to its feet and stalking away.

Eliya realised she'd been holding her breath, and released it with a gasp. The stories about Fen Harel always said that he stalked the Fade, searching for dreamers to tempt and turn astray. Was that what she had felt, the familiarity? His magic trying to fool her into trusting him?

The long, piercing note of a wolf’s howl broke the quiet, and Deshanna's hand clamped down upon her wrist.

“Come, _emm’asha_. Back to the _vhenadahl._ He will not find you there.”

Eliya followed her Keeper through the trees, remaining quiet and wary. In her cavorting and exploring she had forgotten that danger could lurk even in dreams - even in a paradise where she could defy the laws of the waking world. Walking back into the clearing that hosted the great tree, Eliya felt as though she'd stepped into a bubble of safety. It was the _vhenadahl_ , the tree of the people, but not the small and constrained kind city elves revered in their alienages. This was a true symbol of the elvhen; unbowed and free, life giving and eternal.

Cole was nearby again, sitting beside a fire that was sending dancing embers flying upwards into the now inky black sky. The first few stars were beginning to appear.

“Cole, you said before that this is my place. But I don't remember ever dreaming about it before. How did you know? How did we end up here?”

Cole stared back at her, pale eyebrows knotted together in confusion as he sought words to explain. “ _I_ didn't bring you. I followed you. It's your place - you shape it, your thoughts, whether you intend to or not. Maybe you never saw it before because it wasn't here. It only took shape when you realised you needed it.”

“Maybe. I hope I can come back. I've got a feeling I'll need it again before the end,” she responded after a thoughtful pause.

“I'll help you find it, if you tell me when it hurts,” Cole replied earnestly, and Eliya smiled.

“Thank you, Cole. You've been… you've done a lot to help, not just for me. I was worried, that you'd find it harder after how you - well, changed. Is it different now? Harder?”

“It hurts. Everything hurts. I still feel things - flashes of their minds. Pain, hurt, all of it. It's not so loud anymore. I make more noise myself, so I don't hear as much unless I want to. Everyone remembers me now. I can only make them miss me for a few heartbeats. But… I’m real. More real, anyway. And I understand more than I did. I remember more things. It lets me learn.”

“That's good, I suppose. Not the hurting, but the learning. I wasn't sure if I made the right choice, encouraging you to be more human. I'm never sure if I make the right choices.”

“I don't know what makes it right or not. But I'm glad. You helped me. I wanted to help people, but I only knew enough to do it in the simplest way. Now I can see more. And as long as I remember some of the Fade, it remains. I can still… move the same. I can still be here with you, even though I'm not a Mage. Not being able to make people forget makes it harder. I can’t start again if I do something wrong. But seeing me changes people. They know a person wants them to hurt less. That helps. It’s what you do too. People see you trying. It gives them hope.”

Eliya laughed quietly, struck by how similar she was to this strange spirit boy. She was glad for his friendship, glad for his help. Glad that he could put the things she felt into words. She still struggled, even after all this time, to find the right way to say things, which was why she so often kept quiet. Cole often said what might be considered the wrong thing - too personal, to vague, too sad. But at the core of everything he said was his desire to help and to heal. Maybe it wasn't so bad, putting your foot in your mouth, if it helped that person to know that you care.

Staring into the fire, Eliya started to feel her eyes droop with tiredness. Was it strange, to fall asleep in the Fade? Or would it be waking up?

“You can rest now, da’len, and return. I will be here to keep watch. Always,” Deshanna vowed.

“Thank you, Keeper - or… whatever you are,” Eliya replied, laying herself down to sleep.

“It is nothing. She would have wanted me to guide you. Remember the Way of the Bow, da’len. As the sapling bends, so must you. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength. _Ma ane’soun. Ma ju’suledin. Ar lath ma_ , Eliya.”

Eliya soon felt herself drifting off; no longer weary and with a considerably lighter spirit.

\---

After his altercation with Solas and the subsequent explanation to Varric and Cassandra, Cullen had tried to remain cautiously hopeful that, within time, Eliya would seek him out, giving him the chance to apologise and explain.

Time, as it happened, was the crucial factor. As it wore on, his optimism began to markedly decline. He busied himself the first day, heading down into the valley to drill the soldiers. He made sure to return before sundown, in the off chance that she was ready. With every sound of footsteps on the battlements and every person that opened his door Cullen would feel a tiny surge of hope followed by bitter disappointment. He slept fitfully back in his loft for the first time in months, waking up more than once with the smell of his own burning flesh in his nostrils.

There was still no sign of her. He walked the battlements that morning, straining for even a glimpse of her in the yard or perhaps standing out on her balcony. But the day wore on and Cullen found himself reading the same page of a report for the fifth time, squinting to make out the words in his now darkened office. He lit the candles and worked on into the night, finally falling asleep at his desk.

 _“She can't breathe but maybe it's better.”_ Those were the words that wouldn't leave him. What did it mean? What had she been going through, and how had he been so blind to it? What if… there were so many what ifs.

By the third morning, Cullen could feel the threads that he was desperately clinging to begin to fray. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to focus, he headed for the one place that offered some potential for solace. The cold stone floor made his knees ache as he prostrated himself before Andraste, chanting prayers ceaselessly to keep his darkest thoughts at bay.  
  
_You have walked beside me_   
_Down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh._   
_You have stood with me when all others_   
_Have forsaken me._   
  
_I have faced armies_   
_With You as my shield,_   
_And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing_   
_Can break me except Your absence._   
  
_When I have lost all else, when my eyes fail me_   
_And the taste of blood fills my mouth, then_   
_In the pounding of my heart_   
_I hear the glory of creation._   
  
_You have grieved as I have._   
_You, who made worlds out of nothing._   
_We are alike in sorrow, sculptor and clay,_   
_Comforting each other in our art._   
  
_Do not grieve for me, Maker of All._   
_Though all others may forget You,_   
_Your name is etched into my every step._   
_I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself._   
  
_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_   
_I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm._   
_I shall endure._ _  
_ What you have created, no one can tear asunder.

“You're not sure about all the words. As a child you believed them. In your youth they were your guidance. The goal of a life of purpose. In your darkest hours they were a comfort. It's not the message you question now, but the application. You don't doubt your Maker, only the actions of His people. And yourself. Did you live the words the way they were meant? Or were you blind to the real path…”

Cullen looked up wearily to where Cole was seated. He tried to think of a response, but none came to the fore. The spirit boy was right, of course. He could read Cullen's mind, feel what he felt, relive his darkest moments. And he'd had his fair share, this day included.

“Is she alright, Cole? I haven't seen her, haven't heard from her, and I just need to know…”

“She is safe.”

“Oh. Good, I… good. She's safe. I suppose that's enough, until she…”

Cullen wanted to beg, to plead and force Cole into giving him answers. He wasn't getting any from the Maker and he was running short of places to turn. If she would only talk to him, if he could only…

“Have I lost her?”

Cole tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded him painfully of Eliya. “No, she's not lost.”

“Then why hasn't she spoken to me? I just need a chance to explain, if she understood she might be able to… I don't know.”

“She's resting. It won't be much longer.”

“Does she…” Cullen paused, tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Does she still love me?”

“Yes. But it's more complicated than that.”

“Oh.”

“She has a picture of you. From Haven, when it all started. There was a snowstorm and she'd never seen one before. Everything was so white and the wind so strong. Then she saw you. Head bowed, shoulders bunched, making your way out past the walls. Beating against the tide, weathering the storm. Enduring like Andraste until you reached your goal. You could have turned back or found shelter. But you didn't.”

Cullen remembered that storm. He’d left the Chantry after a long day, his head throbbing and hands shaking. Josephine had suggested that he stay the night in one of the Chantry bunks, but he'd known his grip was slipping. It'd be a night of vomiting and nightmares, and he didn't want anyone to see him in that state. He'd had no idea that she was watching as he made his way back to his tent, frost biting at his knuckles and the wind lashing his cheeks.

“She'd seen both kindness and pain in your eyes already. She didn't know much or understand much yet. But watching you march through the white told her more. She saw your struggle and wanted to make it easier. She still does, but she can't if she doesn't understand. You need to tell her.”

Cullen's brow furrowed. “That's what I've been saying. I need to explain what happened the other morning.”

“It goes back further than that.”

Cullen felt fear clawing in his chest. Not that. He was past that, they'd already moved on… what did it matter that he'd left a few of the details out? It was unimportant.

“I've told her more than I've ever shared with anyone else. I've burdened her far too much already, and look where it's gotten us. Varric said she's been miserable, and I didn't even realise. How can you say I need to ask her to bear _more_? These are my problems, and I alone have to endure -”

Cole laughed sadly. “You're both the same. Both trying to hold up half the sky, afraid that it will crush the other if you let it fall. If you looked around, you'd see more clearly. If you let go for once you'd see the sky doesn't need your strength. But you never have. Stoic and surviving. Enduring but never enjoying. You push on, never standing still, but always waiting for the end to your sacrifices, the reward at the finish line. You used to believe your trials were a test, to define your character, to shape you into the man the Maker needed you to be. Blinded by Divine purpose until you lost your way, almost lost yourself. Now you see them as a punishment for your sins. If you keep the faith, if you march on, then you'll find peace at the end of the path. Both are true, and neither. You can't escape your demons when you drag them with you. _Life_ isn't something to be endured. Peace has to be made. Stop worrying about what's to come and enjoy what is.”

Cullen’s mind skimmed back, stirred by Cole’s cryptic prompting, to a memory he didn't know he still had. The night was filled with the sounds of his siblings sleeping and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. He was lying with his eyes closed in feigned sleep, but his ears were straining to make out the whispered words of his father and his mothers’ anguished sobs.

“How will we manage? Three kids already, and the winters have been so long… if the harvest fails again, they'll starve! How can we bring another life into the world knowing that?”

“It's going to be alright, love. We’ll work hard and we'll make it through. There's no point worrying about things that are out of our hands. What's coming will come, and we'll find a way to meet it when it does. This baby is a blessing from the Maker, and the little one will be so loved.”

It was one of the only times he'd ever heard his parents worry. They worked hard every day of their lives, sometimes struggling, but he only ever remembered them being happy. Even at harvest time, when his father was prone to falling asleep at the dinner table, he'd still find time to read stories to Mia and roughhouse with his sons. They lived each day grateful for what they had, instead of fixating on what they didn’t.

“I don't know how to do that, Cole. I'm not the man my father was.”

“It gets easier with practice. I only just started learning. You can't ignore it. You can't dwell on it. You've got to pick it up, look it in the eye, and choose not to let it be the only thing you feel. Start with the thing that hurts the most.”

Cullen barked out a laugh. “What hurts most? I can't tell anymore. It's like trying to triage a dismembered body.”

“You watched the light fade from her eyes and you couldn't save her. It wasn't your fault. She would have died anyway, and you made her feel warm before the end.”

If the first feeling had been clawing inside his chest, now it felt as though his lungs had been punctured and all the breath forced out. He didn't want to go there. What difference did it make? It was years ago...

Cole sighed sadly, as though he realised he was fighting a losing battle against Cullen's stubbornness. But he'd opened the door, even if only a little. Maybe it would take more than his own nudging to get the man to confront the demon lurking behind it.

“You should go and wait. It won't be long now.”

Cullen nodded, trying to subtly brush the tears from his cheeks as he stood. Cole made no move to leave, so he walked self consciously out of the dusty Chantry and headed straight for the Inquisitor’s chambers, taking a longer path to avoid the main hall.

The room was different, but the windows now glittered with late afternoon light instead of sunrise. There were no signs that something so monumental had happened in this very space just days ago. A maidservant must have come into tidy up - the bed was made, the fire crackling. He wondered if there had been any damning evidence left behind, whether there would be whispers circulating through the keep even now about the Commander and What He Had Done.

There was no point worrying about it. That was something he couldn't change. Cole had told him to wait for her. He could do that. When it mattered, he was a patient man.   
  
Cullen sat down on the edge of her couch, bracing his elbows on his knees. Whatever came next, he'd be here ready and waiting for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This chapter title and some of the content inspired by 'Wait for it' from Hamilton musical. If you're not on the bandwagon for that yet, get on it. Lin Manuel Miranda is a genius, and that song in particular is pure lyrical beauty. Maybe it's because Hamilton and Dragon Age spend so much time swirling around in my head, but I find that song really relates to my idea of Cullen and his journey. Read the lyrics, see what you think - but this bit in particular: I am the one thing in life I can control / I am inimitable, I am an original / I am not falling behind or running late / I'm not standing still I am lying in wait
> 
> 2\. Three cheers for Cole and his usefulness for emotional exposition. No cheers for how hard it is to get his voice right and I really don't think I've got that down pat.
> 
> Elvhen translations  
> Ea darem, harellan = be gone, traitor  
> Ma ane’soun. Ma ju’suledin. Ar lath ma = You are strong. You will endure. I love you.


End file.
